


Flower Language

by Caahs



Category: X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Alternate Universe - Modern: Still Have Powers, Anal Sex, Angst, Calm Down Erik, Charles Is a Big Dorkface, Charles Xavier has a Ph.D in Adorable, Charles You Slut, Erik Has Feelings, Erik Logic Is The Best Logic, Erik is Crushing Harder than a 12-year Old Girl, Erik is a Sweetheart, Erik-centric, Eventual Smut, Explicit Language, Falling In Love, Flowers, Flowers Are People's Best Friends, Fluff, Honestly Charles What Are You Thinking, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Male Friendship, Male-Female Friendship, Oral Sex, Protective Erik, Rated E For Last Chapter, Rimming, Sassy Raven, Shaw Being a Manipulative Bastard, Shaw is Creepy, Shaw is an asshole, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-09
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2018-08-30 01:31:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 30,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8513566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caahs/pseuds/Caahs
Summary: When words are not enough to express the stifling feeling that consumes us, gifts are used as a mild help; a gesture of affection. Erik Lehnsherr had never been good at verbally expressing his feelings, and he found the perfect solution within a few blocks of his work, in a small blue covered flower shop with its name carved into an iron plate. The Xavier's Flower Shop.(Based on a Tumblr Prompt: Person A owns a flower shop and Person B comes storming in one day, slaps 20 bucks on the counter and says "How do I passive aggressively say fuck you in flower?”)





	1. Fuck You

Of all the countless times Sebastian Shaw openly humiliated one of his employees in front of his co-workers and third parties involved at the time, that had been the first and only one that his victim was no one else than Erik Lehnsherr.

The meeting, which was held in an extensive room on the sixteenth floor of a skyscraper in downtown New York, had as its original intent to analyze and discuss the company's situation in pursuit of such services offered by the law firm and counselling office known as Hellfire. Scattered around an oblong table composed of a darkened and opaque glass sat two representatives of the Starfox Enterprise. A large man with shoulder-length gray hair and a firm black frame around his intense brown eyes; and a young woman with red hair tied in a ponytail. Her thin, pale face decorated with the most diverse tones of freckles. In addition to them, Sebastian Shaw, Erik Lehnsherr and Angel Salvadore were present, respectively, in charge of the senior management, financial manager and analyst of administrative processes and human resources posts.

The numbers relating the company's employees to the subsequent expenditure on that parcel were being dynamically projected while Erik carried out his explanation with seriousness and professionalism.

"Here we have exemplified a resignation plan, showing the profit rate that would return to the company and the estimated time until the financial situation drops from its current critical level, returning to normal within a period of approximately five months." The representatives paid attention closely to what the manager had to say, making several notes. They barely had time to process the intrusion of his superior.

"Erik." Shaw; sitting opposite of Erik and supporting his jaw in one hand, caught the attention of his subordinate. "The numbers you're presenting to us do not match your speech." A single finger pointed to the screen on which the data was being projected.

The wrinkles on Erik's forehead deepened briefly. His gray eyes confirmed Shaw's words and widened, astonished at his apparent failure. "I apologize." The manager addressed the customers with short words. "I thought I had checked the file this morning before sending it to my boss, but I think I was wrong." Sensing Shaw's purposeful intentions, both Erik's hands clenched into trembling fists as he tried to keep control of his impulses.

"If they agree to proceed, I can-" In an unsuccessful attempt to remedy the damage already done, Erik was once again interrupted.

"Erik, this is not a typical mistake for a person of your graduation level. I expected more from someone like you. Now the meeting is utterly ruined." Shaw dramatized, releasing a long handful of warm air through his nostrils. "If you can forgive us for this inexperienced slip of my employee, we can reschedule the meeting in order to start it all again with the right foot this time."

Angel spoke in defense of his co-worker. "Sebastian, I'm sure Erik has the ability to continue-" With his palm held high, Shaw stopped her from prolonging her speech.

"The matter is already being settled, Miss Salvatore. Take care of your own presentation and make sure you do not perform the same careless lapse of certain people more unprepared than you." The senior manager rested his hands over the table before getting up, walking towards the representatives; both confined in their self-consciousness, considering the alarming scene which had just occurred in front of each one of them.

"My assistant, Emma, will be eager to inform you an alternate date for the meeting. Again, I apologize for the unforeseen." His arms circled the chairs’ back as a broad smile showed upon his age-affected face. "I will provide a brand-new training to my team in guarantee that the situation won’t happen again."

Erik's jaw clenched with each mumbling of loose phrases detected through Shaw's labial movement. The manager felt the small metal particles that constituted the building as a whole vibrating along with his sharp irritation. His belongings were carelessly thrown into the interior of his leather briefcase.

Shaw noticed Erik's movements. "Where in the name of this office do you think, you’re going? I still want to have a word with you alone, Lehnsherr. "

At that very moment a portion of Erik would be terribly delighted in leaving a purple mark; as the result of one of his punches, on either side of Shaw's face, breaking with all the ethics in which the interior of the place he worked stood on. However, after a prolonged breath and a quick decision, Erik headed straight for the door.

"I'm making use of my lunch break now. If you still wish so, I'll stop by your table as soon as I return." The manager said carefully through gritted teeth before closing the door in a loud crash, echoing through the walls of the whole floor.

His enraged grayish eyes forcefully met a doubtful arching from a black pair of eyebrows corresponding to the figure of Azazel, who casually swallowed his coffee in order to disguise the curiosity that suddenly crossed him. "Trouble during the meeting? I felt a small earthquake." The Russian-descendant questioned in his distinctive accent.

"Shaw is a son of a bitch," Erik growled in response, closing his hands around the handle of his briefcase as he recalled the recent events he had just experienced.

"Go outside and cool your head, Erik." With a subtle slap on the shoulders of his colleague, Azazel watched Erik's silhouette fade away as the manager walked inside the elevator.

The rays of sunshine that crossed the dense gray clouds eluded the most unaware ones about the present weather, making them believe that the temperature was high enough to favor summer clothes. However, the more experienced knew about the frigid wind blowing through the buildings, characterizing the Spring weather as one of the city’s main features.

The insistent gusts of air, as they collided against the heated surface of Erik's skin, diminished the instantaneous effects of his stress. Still, they were not enough to cease his deepest urge to beat his boss physically - or in any other more efficient way. His footsteps were quick and long, following a rectilinear pattern determined by the wide concrete sidewalk, with no specific destination in mind.

Shaken by the swirl of feelings shaking his interior in the most desynchronized tuning, Erik was not completely aware of the route made until then. But the moment he interrupted his journey to ascertain his current location, his eyes caught the gracefulness of a genuine flower shop on the other side of the avenue. Set amidst a commercial building and a trinket store, a vibrant sapphire cover contrasted beautifully with the white walls of the shop’s exterior, where a transparent door led into the inside. Xavier's Floriculture, the name said, carved on an iron plate with a rounded and typically feminine calligraphy.

After the greenish permission given by the pedestrian traffic signal, Erik crossed the avenue with both eyes fixed on a single target. His mind calculated all the precise steps until he reached the conclusion of what he considered to be the most flawless of the plans in order to regain what part of dignity he had left, and the respectability he used to always possess within the place where he worked.

A sharp bell echoed through the establishment’s interior, warning the entrance of a new client. Filled with a variety of floral species that gave life to the little shop, the settled elements of nature ascribed to it an aura resumed in tranquility and sympathy.

Without looking around, Erik picked up a crumpled twenty-dollar bill and pressed it against the glass counter impatiently, catching the attendant's attention as he barely had time to turn around and greet the unusual customer who just stormed inside like a lightning.

"How do I passive-aggressively say ‘fuck you’ in flowers?" Erik asked casually, his breath becoming slightly accelerated, whether by the anticipation of the answer or by the memory of Shaw's actions.

The florist frowned in confusion. "Excuse me?" He said slowly, exalting each syllable in order to not misinterpret what had been asked of him.

Erik resisted the temptation to roll his eyes and simply snorted in frustration. "A bouquet to send someone to hell, conveying a hateful message." The manager explained again, with what was left of his patience. "Can you do it or not? If you can’t I'll walk away from here and search for another place." Erik pointed to the exit with his thumb, demanding an immediate response.

"Calm down, my friend." The corners of the florist’s mouth curved into a smile as he stared calmly at his new client, contemplating the Germanic features on his face, as well as his well-defined body structure as a whole. The flowery arrangement which had his full attention before the arrival of the new client was abandoned inside the counter.

"I confess that it is a request of extreme eccentricity." Following along with the conversation, the man went to the bouquet wrappings, selecting the oldest one and tearing a few pieces of its integrity. "But I do believe some thorny roses with other dried and withered flowers should be more than enough to say what’s on your mind." After putting on a pair of gardening gloves, the attendant signaled for the customer to accompany him. "And you can still add a card if you wish so."

Leading him to a session farther from the windows’ display, the florist filled the inside of the wrapper with some pebbles before making a layer of parched leaves, so fragile that they almost crumbled apart due to a careful touch. "Since the opening I have never heard a request like yours before." After offering a simple smile to the man at his side, the clerk moved to collect the thorny roses, separated just so he could cut them all off later, presenting them to the other clients.

"But, I'm curious to know what convinced you to make a decision like that," he asked casually, trying to occupy their time with an innocent conversation, as he tended to do with mostly everyone else who passed by.

Erik ran a hand over his face, feeling the texture of his growing stubble against his skin. "My boss is a complete asshole. Let's say he chose the wrong person to mess with." He shrugged, relaxing a bit soon after inhaling a mixture of fragrances in the air.

"And you couldn’t just tell him how you feel?" The man asked, searching for the ugliest flowers in his garden.

A sigh left Erik's thin lips. "I tend to lose control in such a situation, so I'd rather avoid what would lead either of us, or maybe both, to the nearest hospital."

The florist seemed frightened by the information, turning carefully to face the man beside him. "Oh, I see." Clearing his throat, the attendant's attention turned to the bouquet in between his hands. "And giving him a bouquet of flowers was your first choice?"

"Not exactly." Erik confessed as a shy smile slowly molded his lips. "Actually, I left the building to calm my nerves, and then I came across your store." After the first wave of stress had successfully vanished, Erik allowed himself to stare at the establishment as he should since he first stepped inside, smiling discreetly at the variety of colors and species he found.

"Actually, it’s one of the most beautiful I've ever seen." Memories about his mother, ever so gently taking care of the garden located in the back of an old house where she lived in filled Erik's mind. It was as if the store's magical effects were gradually penetrating through every cubic centimeter of his skin, altering even the most complex synapses between his cells.

Although not the first compliment the florist had received about his establishment, the words warmed the sensitive skin of his cheeks as if they had never been heard before. "Thank you, my friend."

Handling one of the roses, their thorns passed through the thick glove that protected the clerk’s hands, piercing the thin layer of skin. "Oh bullocks, these fucking roses," he murmured to himself, shaking his injured hand.

Erik's lips curved, suppressing the tickling laughter in the back of his throat. "Besides relying on useless small talk, do you often curse as you’re attending the rest of your clients?" He grinned widely when noticing the expression of surprise coming from the florist.

"Why, I ..." A laugh came from the man's reddened lips as he noticed the playful tone in his client’s voice. "Not really. Only with those who use my flowers to send other people to fuck themselves. "

A loud laugh could be heard in Erik's husky tone of voice, who tilted his head back by the intensity of his act. "Great answer."

Final touches were given to the requested bouquet as they both returned to their initial positions, with only the glass counter separating them.

Erik fumbled in his pants’ back pocket, pulling out the old rumpled dollar bill he had primarily displayed and placed it back on the counter. "I suppose this should cover the expenses and the medical kit for your finger."

"Now, it is not the first and it will not be the last time that a thorn will cause me any kind of injury. I'm sure you won’t even have to call an ambulance." The florist laughed, stripping off his thick gloves and pushing his bruised finger into his mouth, wiping away the streaks of blood. "Besides, you theoretically helped get rid of the flowers that would be thrown away. I couldn’t charge you for such a service." He shook his head; strands of his chestnut hair falling in front of his eyes and partially blocking his eyesight.

"I insist." The note was placed between the florist's fingers, which accepted the payment after an exhausting sigh.

Giving him a pen and a rectangular card from the shop, the florist leaned his arms on the counter. His blue eyes glowed with a devilish curiosity. "Have you thought about what you will write?"

For a moment, Erik speculated how old the man standing in front of his was; trapping his lower lip between his teeth in a futile boyish charm, like a teenager immersed in its fulfilling anxiety. Pushing back such thoughts from his mind, the manager offered the florist a wicked smile before beginning to smear the paper with black ink.

"Enjoy the thorns, Miststück." Erik read aloud.

"Miststück?" The florist raised one eyebrow, pronouncing the word in the most atrocious accent. "Is it German? I thought you had an accent from somewhere around the Western Europe, but I did not know the exact country.”

Erik nodded, maintaining the grin around his face. "It literally means 'bastard,' but we can think of some other words associated with the term as well." He explained, placing the card in the middle of the bouquet’s dusky roses.

The store clerk watched the movement of the man's fingers in front of him for a second, lifting his face to properly look at him and losing himself in the depth of the gray-blueish gaze that belonged to him.

"Can I help you with something else, sir ..." His alarming blue orbs widened and a cold laugh left his lips. "I'm sorry, my name is Charles. Charles Xavier." One of his hands crossed the imaginary barrier imposed by the counter, and he was greeted by calloused, elongated fingers. The contact was short, but enough for the heat to cross through the palm of Erik's hand and make the corners of his lips twitch in response.

"Erik Lehnsherr." The manager looked around and checked the clock tied to his wrist, murmuring a curse on his mother tongue.

"I appreciate the bouquet, Charles. But I’m afraid that if I take any longer to go back to work I will give even more reasons for my beloved boss to write me a letter of resignation."

Understanding Erik's pretext, the florist crossed both arms on top of the counter and offered a smile, endowed with the purest sympathy. "Thank you for choosing my shop, my friend." Calmly, Charles reached for another card, holding it out to Erik. "Here, in case you need another unusual bouquet. We make deliveries too."

Erik safely settled the card in his wallet, putting it back into the depth of his pockets before seizing his bouquet. "Thank you. Have a nice day, Charles." After an exchange of glances, Erik turned his back on the florist and his shop, returning to the familiar woody tiles of the office he worked in.

Emma eyed him warily from the front table, her eyes directed at the article Erik had been carrying. "Who dared to offer you this beautiful gift, Lehnsherr?" Her tone, full of irony, made Erik chuckle, already used to Emma's personality.

"Actually, the gift will still be delivered," he mentioned, adjusting the plastic wrap to reveal the thorny roses even more. "Do you think Shaw will like it?"

"Oh, he's going to love it." Emma smiled slyly at the name of her boss, displaying a void of exaltation on the features of her aesthetically impeccable face. "Angel told us what happened during the meeting," she added nonchalantly, winding one of the blond strands of her hair between her fingers.

"Then you know he deserves what's about to come." Erik raised both eyebrows and closed the hand that held the bouquet in a fist, feeling the thorns prickling against his skin.

The gift left on Shaw's desk was seen and contemplated by the recipient, who, even without knowing the sender, could identify the calligraphy and words used by Erik among many other forms of writing. His lips took on the shape of a wicked curve, chuckling internally as if he had foreseen a similar attitude coming from his employee. The tired, age-shimmering eyes, gleamed mischievously as he admired one of the roses. After a thoroughly examination Shaw placed the single rose in one of his drawers before pressing a button on his phone.

"Emma? Please, sweetheart, ask Lehnsherr to come to my office right away."


	2. I'm Sorry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, hello! First of all I'm very happy to see that some people are interested on the story! Thank you for all the messages and kudos. I hope you like the second chapter just as well.  
> Again, I'm sorry for any mistake that might cross your way, those are all mine and I'll be glad to fix them if you say so.

Two weeks after the fateful incident with the bouquet of prickly blossoms sent especially for Shaw, the Hellfire office had finally returned to its normal routine. The project initiated by Angel, Erik, and Shaw had been completed and duly presented to Starfox Enterprise’s representatives, who seemed surprisingly eager to sign an agreement that would legitimize what had been proposed to them during the second meeting.

Since he had joined the office, Erik attended to the monthly party reserved only for those mutants who spent their precious time working together there; always making efforts to keep their powers’ confidentiality from the inquisitive eyes of the rest of humanity that surrounded them daily. Frequent manifestations characterized the common and insistent struggle of mutants for an egalitarian place among the remaining population. However, like all other types of prejudice that still resided in the minds of a small portion, repudiation against the genetically differentiated was often to be found in the outside world.

"Lehnsherr." Janos, the newest hired trainee, knocked on the door of the manager's office, awaiting permission through a small gap he had previously opened.

Behind a stack of forms and a computer screen, Erik nodded, allowing his colleague's entry. His hands moved away small clumps of paper from the surface of his metallic table, making it easier to communicate with whoever crossed his path.

"Janos." Erik greeted him with a handshake. "How can I help you?"

The Latin descendant pushed back part of his dark locks behind his ear, leaning against the white wall; a slight shiver ran through his skin due to the low temperature. Lehnsherr's features; usually demonstrating a reserved or irritated aspect with both brows furrowed in a deep penetrating gaze, intimidated anyone who had the audacity to face him, even during a short exchange of words. His aura, while alienating most of the people who were trying to approach, had at the same time an undeniable charm that unconsciously attracted them. Those worthy of greater intimacy, however, knew the true jewel hidden in the interior of a worn and colorless limestone shell.

"Emma asked me to tell you about the new date we're going to meet. It will be this Friday instead of the next one, change of plans."

The blueish gray eyes kept their usual rigid expression, discreetly watching the calendar on his left and checking if he would be able to make it or not. In a few seconds, his mind calculated the remaining tasks he had to complete, as well as the time each would demand of his intellect. His face turned again to Janos, then.

"Thank you, Janos. Tell Emma I'll do my best to be there." Following the conversation with a quick farewell, Erik found himself again in the solidity of his small office. The clock on the opposite direction of his chair counted the seconds in measured sounds, delimiting the time that separated the manager from the comfort of his own apartment.

With a tormented sigh, Erik's eyes stared at the immutable and bright screen of his computer before returning to the stacks of forms that needed his signature, along with dozens of plans undergoing continuous development at request of distant clients.

The relentless metal hands of the clock whirled without regard to their final destination, following the customary route provided by a small internal battery. Just like a little hummingbird cub, whose wings never stopped beating, as long as there was a nourishing source to supply the energetic need of its fragile body. The tiny footsteps, whether thundering by the clock’s ticking noise or by the silent flight of the bird, marked the passing of the days, which went unnoticed by the majority population, stuck in their work and personal life; instigated only by the simple desire to get out of that daily life that haunted them in an increasingly tormenting way.

Another sunset colored the clear, previously bluish sky of orange, announcing the end of yet another lengthy working week and declaring the beginning of two glorious recess days for some and three nights of entertainment for others.

Inside the sixteenth floor of the skyscraper located in the city’s downtown, the unfinished works were left aside, giving space to the commotion that had settled in the small office; simple preparations for the celebration that would soon follow. Erik, as usual, did not join the rest of his workmates, staying behind his own table in the company of even more papers that had been occupying his desk throughout the week.

"Erik, please tell me you're going to abandon these projects, go to your house, get ready and enjoy the evening with us." Emma leaned against the doorframe as she announced her presence, feeling discreetly inebriated by the effects of the alcohol ingested.

With a few clicks of his mouse, Erik turned off the computer in front of him, loosening the knot of his dark blue tie. His eyes stared at the blue orbs belonging to the woman at the entrance of his work-room.

"Right. I said I would try my best to be there, didn’t I? "A smile traced the corner of his lips as he stretched out his upper limbs, listening to the popping sounds from his rusted joints at every small movement.

Emma Frost could easily be considered the closest person to Erik at that particular moment in the manager's life. The friendship between them took place naturally, amplified by the mutual disgust they felt over the disastrous figure of their superior, Sebastian Shaw. In order that they both felt wrapped around the charm and irony of one another, sharing the shortest and most reserved smiles; gesture that, considering the reclusive nature of both involved, resembled an overt statement of affection. However, a single agreement between them limited the gossip being spread constantly about the level of such relationship and showed everyone else the respect that had always existed there. Staying away from Erik's thoughts was the least Emma could do in order to secure a healthy friendship and a nice coexistence with the financial manager.

In exchange for his colleague's attitudes, Erik had to offer his, though not always pleasant, companionship.

Their eyes met briefly before Emma spoke again. "I really hope to see you there, Erik." Before he could continue with the intended couple of words, Shaw's voice echoed through the hallways’ walls, crying out for his personal assistant.

"Don’t you dare leave me alone with him. I'm dead serious.“ Her voice, always full of elegance, was nothing but a frightened whisper. Not because she didn’t have the audacity to face her superior by herself, but yes to the lack of patience, since she would have to listen to Shaw’s rambles through all the event.

Erik's head was already facing the opposite side of his personal rectangular space, waiting for Emma to leave him and attend to Shaw's requests. However, her voice passed by his ears again, causing Erik to frown in confusion.

"By the way, honey, don’t think you're going to escape from telling me about the person who finally forced that pouting aura out of your body." Without a chance to protest, Erik gaped at the door shutting loudly in front of him. His thoughts lingered on the most varied moments of his exhausting week, until he felt the imaginary weight of a certain card inside his wallet. Charles Xavier. The sympathetic, insightful, enthusiastic florist who met Erik's eccentric demands with his brown hair, glittering blue eyes, and a dazzling smile surrounded by a pair of reddish, well-delineated lips.

Unconscious of the curvature taken by his mouth in response to the brief memory, Erik gathered his belongings and left the building quickly as he offered a momentary farewell to his colleagues who were still there.

A few blocks from Hellfire, Erik's modest apartment merged with other residential buildings around the neighborhood in its classic infrastructure and opaque façade; a soft daffodil yellow tinted the construction’s external face. From the outside, it was possible to observe a zigzag set of metallic staircases that connected the seven balconies which constituted the whole building. Erik often wanted to tear it apart from his own veranda with his powers due to a compilation of past accidents involving one of the neighbor's cats.

After unlocking the door with the aid of his powers, Erik put his leather briefcase over the kitchen counter and stripped off his coat, placing it on the back of a chair. The decor of his apartment was sparse, somewhat minimalistic. Some famous paintings decorated the monotonous and lifeless walls, along with a few adornments that appeared on top of a few pieces of furniture. A large dark couch occupied almost all space dedicated to the living room, and at its opposite a television was attached to the wall next to a dark wooden furniture. Near the balcony, a small chessboard revealed one of Erik's favorite hobbies, surrounded by a pair of varnished iron chairs.

Erik grabbed a fresh water bottle and headed to the comfort of his own bedroom, unbuttoning his shirt along the way and unbuckling the belt of his dressing pants. After leaving his belongings on the nightstand, Erik allowed himself a rest, sitting on the edge of the bed and sighing deeply with both eyelids blocking the light from the window. Black shoes were soon abandoned as well as the thin pair of socks, permitting a sudden air mass to run through his fingers, at last freed from its confinement. Erik's back met the mattress’ softness and protested against any movement made with the objective to break the precious and recently found comfort. He barely realized the moment when his conscience deliberately left him, quickly encountering the private world of his subconscious.

In his fanciful world, Erik found himself lost in a flowery sunny field, in which the cherry blossoms fell with the wind swaying over the tree’s stiff branches. In the distance, his eyes identified a person’s silhouette; apparently, a man, bursting into laughter and walking slowly towards him. Erik partially closed his eyes in order to see him better, shielding the clarity from reaching his eyes. His feet instantly brought him closer to the figure that intrigued him, giving the man more and more characteristic traits.

"Charles?" Erik questioned in astonishment, not believing the tricks his mind was playing.

The figure replied with a sincere smile, embellishing the features of a freckled and pale face.

The wind became stronger and more violent, blowing in Erik’s direction and forcing his eyes to shut. When he finally opened them again, he could see the florist’s body falling apart in front of him, its tiny pieces turning into colorless rose petals which soon fell ill, becoming nothing more than a sea of brown spots polluting the vivid greenery grass.

"No!" Erik extended a hand, trying to reach out for what was left of Charles, but was brutally dragged away by the wind, separated from the man who was already gone and crashing against the cherry blossom’s tree trunk.

Away from that utopian environment, Erik’s bewildered senses noticed the familiar sound of a distinct music or a beep, echoing through the endless horizon and breaking with the whole scenario created by his own subconscious.

Erik startled awake, finding himself again in his room and grunting at the beeping noise still making its presence inside his mind. The manager reached out for his mobile beside the bed, accidentally knocking his wallet off and giving almost the same destination to the small electronic device before bringing it closer. Erik squirmed on the bed due to the exaggerated brightness’ coming from the phone in his hands, muttering a few words of discontentment.

Three missed calls from Emma, and two text messages appeared on the screen.

In the first one, sent at 8:42 PM, Emma wrote the following sentence:

_"If you do not show up within the next ten minutes I'll make sure you never get a good night of sleep again, Lehnsherr. The alcohol is making Shaw even more unbearable than usual."_

The second, at 10:23 PM, was from Azazel:

_"I hope you're prepared to face the Frost’s mood on Monday. I cannot believe you left her alone with Shaw. "_

"Shit!" Erik, enraged angry with himself, exclaimed before snooping at the current time. 10:37 PM, the digital clock informed him.

Sitting on the bed with his legs dangling at the side, Erik ran both hands through the length of his face as more of the same ill-mannered words roamed by his reckless mind, eventually spilling out of his mouth. Even if he ran to put any casual outfit and get to the desired location, it was too late to fix what was already torn into pieces. His gaze was fixed on the cards, money and documents scattered around the floor, framing the figure of his bare feet. Among the items, a single colored card caught his attention, with the same girlish handwriting that awakened the deepest corners of his memory due to its indisputable familiarity.

"I hope she likes flowers." Erik whispered as he moved the card through his fingers, turning it from side to side as if searching for a nonexistent secret message.

Even without a consolidated information on the back of the card, there was Erik; eyes meeting the same bluish coverage of last week. It seemed the store found itself open and ready to serve customers who needed their services. After a deep breath, Erik eagerly forced his feet to move forward, listening intently to the acute sound of the bell that announced his presence.

The first thing Erik noticed was that a young woman stood behind the counter. The second one was that there was no sign of Charles.

"Good morning, sir! My name is Raven, how can I help you?" The woman with golden hair leaned on the counter in an outrageous and provocative way.

Erik, feeling suddenly lost and bashful, rested a hand on the back of his neck, as if It was the first time he had ever set foot in that colorful interior, full of flavors and different landscapes. "Ah ..." His eyes avoided most of the woman’s face. "I need your help to pick a flower."

She laughed from behind the counter. "That's why you're there." She pointed to the store, specifically towards Erik. "And I’m here." Her fingers turned at her own figure right after.

"So, what will it be? A declaration of love? A crown to take to the cemetery?"

Erik’s head shook in denial. "No, nothing like that." His eyes hovered over the small door that led to the back of the establishment, wondering if Charles would be diving himself in work there. "I'm looking for something to express an apology."

The attendant’s eyes widened in surprise, nodding swiftly. "Right! You had a disagreement with your girlfriend?" She asked, making no move towards the flowers, more interested in knowing about the life of her newest client.

Awe at such audacity coming from the woman, Erik refused to answer, raising an eyebrow in response.

"Boyfriend, then?" The woman insisted; her own face supported by the palms of her hands. "What a waste." Erik felt her penetrating gaze through different layers of his clothes; definitely annoyed by the obvious lack of ethics and education.

"Could you please fix me a bouquet or something similar? I'm in a hurry." The manager smiled wryly, internally pleading for the endless questioning to cease.

Raven pursed her lips and stared at the door behind her briefly. "Actually, I’m very new at this whole flower shop thing, so I don’t know everything about flowers and their meanings." She tried to explain with gestures, completely embarrassed for failing to comply with the request just ordered. "But don’t worry! I'll ask my brother, so if you could just wait a moment, please? I’ll be quick." Her eyes begged for a pinch of understanding and patience.

Erik thought about leaving, but a bouquet was the only viable option which had the probability of making Emma less annoyed with everything that had happened. Also, what were the chances of finding another open establishment on a Saturday morning?

Without many words, Erik motioned for Raven to follow as planned. Observing his surroundings, the manager walked to a small inner garden of bluish flowers, of which he had no idea any of its nomenclature. However, their beauty reminded him of a certain color with which he dreamed about during the previous night; one that had been etched deep within his memory.

A murmur of words spoken in a rich British accent alerted Erik’s ears, who turned his face in search for the owner of that familiar voice. A grin spread instantly when Erik saw Charles's figure with his tangled and messy chestnut hair looking like a bird's nest. The florist’s hands partially blocked the clarity penetrating through his sensitive eyes, weakened by the local brightness.

"For God's sake, Raven. How difficult it is to ask if the person can wait until Monday to pick up the bouquet? And no, I do not care if he looks like an international celebrity or a statue sculpted by Michelangelo." Charles said as he walked slowly towards the basic supplies for starting a bouquet. "I got home at four in the morning and was kind enough to come here and doze on the couch so you could go out with Hank later on." His hands barely straightened the plastic that would go around the flowers specifically chosen.

"Now, I have a headache from hell and the least I expected from you was a few peaceful hours of sleep. But instead, I'm being forced to deal with your clientele." Charles continued to grumble, seizing a pair of gloves near the counter and finally lifting his eyes to face the visitor who disturbed his rest.

The hands securing the bouquet’s holder were instantly paralyzed, like the rest of his body to see none other than Erik Lehnsherr ready to request his services again.

"Erik!" His eyes twinkled and the previous irritation dissipated amid the perfumed air that enveloped them all. "What a pleasant surprise to see you here again." With bared teeth, Charles walked to the man, squeezing his shoulders gently. "In need of another bouquet to send someone to hell?"

Erik's lips were pressed into a thin line, suppressing a laugh itching uncomfortably inside his throat. He decided to go with a wide grin instead. "Not this time, Charles. But I should thank you for your great work, my boss was utterly flattered with the gift."

"I'm sure, yes. And I hope you're still employed." The hand that still held onto Erik's shoulder subtly caressed the manager's arm, falling in parallel to Charles's body again.

"You're underestimating my abilities." Erik missed the presence of a hand pressing against his body, which shuddered by a chill that came suddenly.

"Me? I would never do that, my friend. You must be thinking about someone else.” Charles cocked his head to one side, watching the flowers that had captured Erik’s apparent interest. "The Nigella flower. Did you like it?"

Undecided where to focus his gaze, Erik followed Charles’. "Yes, very exotic, I would say. What does it mean?"

"It's funny, its message. Some say is somewhat ambiguous." The florist approached the flower in question, gently tracing the outline of one of the petals with his fingertips. A delicacy that only the most dedicated had. "It’s said to represent the chain that binds one person to another, most often related to love, but occasionally to bitterness too." Despite the throb of his head, Charles moved to laud Erik’s features with a smile.

"Anyway, most people purchase them for their beauty." Charles added with a quick shrug.

"It's a shame that they don’t see what's behind it." Erik said, not knowing for sure if he was directing his words to the flower or to the man whose hands gave birth to such a precious piece of nature.

"We can’t possibly have everything we want, now do we?" Charles said rhetorically, distancing himself from Erik. "Now, Raven told me you came looking for a bouquet to make amends?" Changing the subject quickly, the florist sought confirmation.

The wrinkles on Erik's forehead became more pronounced, following Charles's steps slowly. "Exactly." For a moment, Erik wanted to let himself fall into laughter because of the words used by the florist as he left the warmth of the back room.

"I'm sorry for my terrible choice of words from before." Charles said, as if reading Erik’s thoughts. "And also, I apologize for the rude attitude of someone else." His voice became louder, emphasizing the tone so that Raven could hear him. "I have a terrible hangover. And in Raven’s case, well, she doesn’t know how to behave properly. Discipline comes only after a long period of guidance, I’m afraid.”

"It's understandable." Erik said carefully, avoiding the usage of any other expression that would show what he really thought about Raven at that time.

Charles cleared his throat, going towards the colorful and long plants in length, covered by pentamerous flowers, with narrow and showy petals. "About the bouquet, forgive my curiosity, but what was this time’s dreadful incident?" Despite the different colors, Charles’ hands gently chose only the purplish ones.

Erik's eyes drifted to the white tiles underneath his shoes, clenching his toes a few times as if trying to dissipate the bubbling anxiety. "I have a friend, Emma, in the office. Every month we have a meeting to celebrate the achievements acquired, and I let her down yesterday. I fell asleep and left her alone with my boss, who’s even more of an asshole when he’s drunk. Let's say she wasn’t very happy about that. "

The expression stamped on Charles's face made it clear he wouldn’t like to be in the same place of Erik’s colleague. "I don’t blame her." The florist said, taking pruning shears from his apron’s pockets and delicately shaping the fragile flowers around the decorations. "A sincere apology wouldn’t be enough?"

"Let’s say I’m not known for my capacities in apologizing." Much less in exposing himself with so much spontaneity, but Charles seemed to establish an exception for that incontestable truth. Erik blamed the environment around him which reminded him of his mother, comforting him unconsciously and forcing his body to lower its predictable self-defenses.

"The human being is a terribly self-centered and proud race, I must say." Charles said, biting his lower lip due to the severity of his sentence.

Erik snorted, wiping the cold sweat from the palms of his hands before coaxing them inside his pockets. "Do you include yourself in that definition?"

Charles sent Erik a reassuring look, with a soft smile. "Without a doubt, my friend."

The bell announced the arrival of another customer, making all faces to turn in the newcomer’s direction. Consequently, the intimate moment established between Charles and Erik broke into pieces like a crystal glass crashing dramatically against the floor. In surprise, the pair of scissors in the florist’s possession slipped from his fingers, heading towards the feet in touch with solid ground. The noise and further pain, however, never reached the ears of those around.

"Hank!" Raven ran into the arms of her boyfriend, choking him in a tight embrace.

Charles, on the other hand, went completely still beside Erik. The surprise found stamped on his features was not just because of Hank’s arrival, but also to how easily the pair of scissors levitated above the ground, right next to his feet. He watched carefully the path it traced, as if under the influence of something close to a magnetic field, reaching its destiny in between Erik’s calloused hands.

Gazes clashed immediately after the incident. The despair and anxiety present as a shadow in grayish eyes being reflected in the surprise and excitement of bright blue orbs. Time seemed to freeze during that moment shared between the two, in which neither party knew exactly what to say or do. Both breaths adopted an accelerated pace and Erik could have sworn that his heartbeat echoed as resounding as the chipping of a bird caged between four hollow walls.

Erik dared to make a move, his lips parting in slow motion, at the same speed in which the gardening tool manually returned to Charles’ hands. Either because of the metal or the slight brush of their hands, a sudden electric shock ran through Erik's arm, making his heart flutter in reflex.

"I'd better go." The moment Erik had turned away, Charles's hand slid to his wrist, circling it tightly and preventing the continuity of the manager’s actions.

_"Wait!"_

The same polished voice enveloped in British accent echoed in different places at Erik’s head, leaving his thoughts slightly cluttered and messing up with the manager’s senses. With an inversion of eyebrows, he turned to face Charles’ expressive eyes.

_Please do not leave, Erik._

Reddened lips did not move as they should, Erik watched closely. However, his voice was clearly audible, as serene as the one present in his latest dreams. The mouth also displayed in his private and illusory reality, opened into a wide smile, revealing white and slightly crooked teeth.

_You're not the only one who has his tricks, you know?_

During that immediate moment, Erik realized what Charles insisted on informing him about; his features transformed gradually into one rather soft, of a happy nature, and yet somehow still full of uncertainty.

"You are a telepath." Erik said aloud, verging between a doubtful and affirmative tone.

Charles allowed his wide grin to downgrade into one a bit more restrained than the previous, raising one of his eyebrows questioningly.

"It's the first time you meet one?"

Erik shook his head in a simple gesture, his lips curving silently. "The friend to whom I will take the bouquet also shares the same abilities." With his gaze locked on the mesmerizing blue tide that constantly swept him further from the shore, he continued. "In fact, everyone in the office where I work are mutants." As he had finally confessed about his own and others’ powers, Erik found no need to correct the lies he had told about the party he just missed on the previous day, allowing Charles to draw his conclusions by himself.

"This is amazing. Telekinesis?" Charles muttered, squeezing Erik's hand one last time before releasing it.

"Manipulation of magnetic fields, in general. It gives me the power to move metallic parts as I please." Erik replied confidently, proud of being capable of doing so many different things due to his mutation. Something which at first had been a nightmare now became more like a blessing, considering the world they lived in.

Raven and Hank, who observed the situation attentively, remained quiet for most of the time, exchanging whispers about a few small details present in the interaction between the two men. Almost as entertained as if watching their favorite television show, not losing even a second of the scenes bound to happen.

"You are not the only ones capable of doing extraordinary things!" Raven said, disentangling herself from Hank's arms, which timidly circled her waist. Her figure transformed gradually. White skin replaced with thick, bluish scales; blond hair dyeing into a deep, passionate red; and the eyes resembling the ones of a feline, with thin pupils and yellowish irises.

Charles, though forcibly snorting aloud, smiled sweetly at his stepsister’s mutation. His eyes curiously hovered on the man beside him, pining for his reaction.

The gray eyes, no matter how supposedly neutral, seemed to express a certain surprise and admiration for Raven’s mutagenic skills. From his mouth came words not meant to her, but to the boy standing as a shadow behind her bluish skin. "And you?" Erik pointed impolitely.

Hank's cheeks reddened as he adjusted the dark frame of his glasses around his nose. "I..."

Realizing the young researcher’s hassle, Charles rested a hand on Erik's shoulder. "I apologize, my friend, but please understand that Hank is somewhat shy about this." A simple look, full of sheer indulgence, left Hank mentally thanking the telepath.

"I guarantee that his mutation is as magnificent as many others out there." The florist added, turning to focus on the man at his side.

_But yours is still one of the most splendid I have ever had the chance to see with my own eyes, Erik._

The silent projection, reserved only for the corners of Erik’s mind, brought a wry smile to the manager’s thin lips, who although distressed due to the intimate contact established with Charles, hadn’t brutally pushed him away as usual. Different from Emma’s cold and invasive presence, Charles’ subtle touches were the most inviting and warm as possible, as if made from tenuous sunshine rays.

Resting in the warmth of the florist’s hands, a few purple petals brushed on his fingers, waking him up from the previous trance in which his mind succumbed to, getting immediately lost within the critical and magnetic sight of Erik.

His hand; still resting on the manager’s massive bone structure, carefully slipped through Erik’s arm, abandoning the previous consistency that supported it and leaving behind only the slight tingle of a rosy skin to beg for a tiny additional contact.

"I ..." The Anglican accent failed to act, and Charles cleared his throat quickly so he could continue with his speech. "I'm almost done with the bouquet. Would you like to write a card to go along with it?" Charles said, moving away towards the counter after ensuring the bouquet’s safety in between his hands.

"Please." Erik accompanied him, recalling the first time he found himself in a similar position at the same establishment, except for his current emotional state.

Silently, the small card had been filled with a calligraphy executed as neatly as it could; enough so, that the letters became fairly legible. Unlike the first meeting, the phrase formed was not read aloud, but Erik made no effort to hide it from the pair of striking blue orbs that curiously peeked at what Erik had written.

A simple snort accompanied by a complacent laugh arose from Charles’ soft features. "At least you are aware of your own characteristics, my friend."

"That's how you win as many customers as possible, Charles?" Erik searched for his wallet, seeking the amount of money he thought it would suffice. "If I were you I’d be careful, I might not come back here."

Charles’ eyelids partially slipped shut. "Don’t worry, I’m sure you'll come back when you need more flowers." The florist said confidently.

Feeling threatened by the possibility of having his deepest ideas read by Charles, the manager stepped back, staring at Charles's face with a frown. "Don’t you think is improper to read your costumer’s minds without any permission?"

The unfriendly tone of Erik's words had not been able to remove the distinguished grin from the florist's face. "I admit that some emotions, especially the most superficial ones, are harder to ignore. But I would never read your thoughts without permission, Erik. Also, I don’t need to see what you’re thinking to know that you’ll be back whenever you need. Or am I mistaken?"

Three ten-dollar bills were separated and placed on the counter’s glassy surface, barely touching Charles’ hands. "You're being determinedly presumptuous." Erik said, refusing to believe in the veracity of Charles’ words.

"What can I say? I can’t deny who I am on the inside." Charles shrugged and accepted the money put in front of him, ready to open his mouth and argue about the extra amount he had received.

"Keep the change. Consider it an extra for your charming friendliness and the compliments I received from your sister." Erik stepped backwards with a full grin on his lips, shaking a hand as he felt Charles’ intentions, transmitted by the sincere glow swimming across the telepath’s blue eyes.

The gratitude was implied on Charles’ expression as a whole, who finished the beautiful arrangement and gave it to Erik willingly. "It was very nice to see you again, Erik. Feel free to visit us at any other time."

"Thank you, Charles. Perhaps we’ll see each other again." An honest laugh was brought to life while Erik diverged his gaze to the intense colored flowers in front of him instead of the light features found all around Charles's face. Reluctantly, he turned his back to not only florist who intrigued him the most, but also to the rest of the people standing around there.

"We’ll see you another day, Erik!" Raven waved, leaning casually on Hank's shoulder and smiling mischievously at Charles when the client’s silhouette got mixed with a few people who walked on the sidewalk.

Charles raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing." Raven said, noting the awful state of her nails. "Just wondering how long it will take for me to find you making out with Erik in the back room."

Charles dramatical gasp did not go unnoticed. "Raven, measure your words! He is nothing more than my client!" The hand that rested against his chest hid the latent beat of his heart. It was not the first time that Charles felt soaked in pure luck to have the gift of telepathy, being able to protect other’s minds from the most sordid thoughts of his own.

"And how much longer will you keep convincing yourself of that?" Hank, unlike the communicative personality of his partner, remained mostly quiet by her side, observing the situation with curiosity. Only discrete comments were made in response to Raven's effrontery.

"Leave him alone, Raven. Come on, we’ll be late." The young scientist said, adjusting his glasses around the solid bridge of his nose before pulling his girlfriend by the hand and moving towards the door.

Before leaving the establishment, Raven walked over, wrapping her arms around Charles’ neck. "The keys are inside the back room, near the desk." An audible kiss was deposited on each cheek of her brother. "See you later."

As the couple left the establishment, Charles leaned on the counter at mercy of his own flashing thoughts, which were so insistent that flowed constantly through the deepest corners of his mind, as a gas succumbing to the thicker membranes, occupying every cubic centimeter of its interior. The lower lip, far more than red from the constant nibbles, was once again caught between calcified teeth while the same previous thoughts wandered on the same high and gallant figure, the wrinkling of skin around greyish hypnotic eyes when a shiny smile made its way to the surface, which although scary, immediately became lovely to Charles's eyes.

The telepath laughed unconsciously, unaware of the fondness written all over his face. After a last glance to the flowers that surrounded him – lingering slightly on the splendor of his hyacinths; his feet let themselves be carried away by their obligations. Sprinklers had been programmed inside the whole place, including the distant greenhouses, to ensure the maintenance of a healthy environment for the nature’s pieces that there grew in constant care. As soon as the lock clicked for the second time, Charles put both hands inside the pockets of his coat and walked back to his apartment.

Across the busy city, a bouquet had been laid on the doormat of an apartment. As it remained there untouched, its sweet odor spread through the floor during every passing second. From afar one could see, in addition to an extreme beauty of the carefully selected flowers, a card whose handwriting could easily lead to someone else if the person wasn’t familiar with such derangement of lines and curves.

_Sorry for acting like a complete asshole. Erik._


	3. I Miss You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank for reading the story so far! This chapter is very emotional, so beware and bring some tissues, you might need them. I'll be linking a song at the beginning of the chapter and I'll be very happy if you decide to listen to it while reading, it'll definitely enhance your feelings.

[From](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GNLtvAcQMIk) the personal collection of days lived by Erik, only a few stood out in his memory. Their image as clear and translucent gave the distinct impression that the events stored in his mind had happened during that exact month and not years ago. Those moments which brought a smile to his shadowy features parted from the ones which managed to gather salty tears on the corners of his eyes. However, there was only one of them that surrounded Erik’s mind like a plague, repeating itself in his dreams and giving him occasional visions when his thoughts started to wander through the emptiness of his boring routine. The fateful day which had happened exactly three years ago, marked the conclusion of an illustrious life story.

The extensive path this little personal experience traced out could be resumed in years of a battle that, unfortunately, could not be won; a battle that costed a large part of Erik’s - if not all of his; happiness. His arms forcibly untangled from the figure who most inspired him to become a better person; one worthy to possess all the qualities in order to convey an honest gratitude for his very existence and company. With a long-suffering sigh filled with nothing more than grief, another star had marked its place up on the dark sky, shining so strongly as it had done all of its life and showing to everyone all the strength it secretly possessed.

_"Mutter, are you sure you used the right ingredients for this? It's far too sweet for a chicken pie." Erik said, bringing a fork filled with food to the inside of his mouth, as if there was nothing wrong with his mother’s cuisine._

_"Oh, mein Schatz, my vision is no longer the same as before. I must have mixed up the ingredients."_

Edie Lehnsherr had barely reached her 59 years when the first signs that something was wrong with her health began to show. Amidst her hard life, she faced many difficulties in raising her only son after the sudden death of her husband, whose life was unfairly taken by a single metal bullet that perforated his healthy heart. After overcoming this personal struggle, she strove to offer Erik the basic requirements so that he could become the robust and smart man who the elderly woman was so immensely proud of.

Erik’s visits were regular, inviting himself to enter the reclusive and secretive world of his mother every weekend. Joining her in one of many talks about outlandish reform ideas and listening to her whenever she brought to the table any kind of complaints about casualties lived by a retired person.

_"Erik, my dear, when will you bring a pretty woman to meet me? I won’t wait forever, you know." Edie said through a sip of coffee during a warm Summer afternoon. Her tired eyes were clearly affected by age, presenting deep wrinkles spread equally all over her gaunt face._

_"Only when you get better from what makes you so weakened during the morning and so indisposed during the rest of the day, Mama." Erik said with a seriousness in his voice._

_Edie just laughed casually in reply. "You saw with your own eyes that the exams didn’t result in anything, Erik. You don’t have to worry about that." One of her loving hands stroked the scarce auburn hair of her son. "Now why don’t you tell me about that boy from the other day..."_

Regardless of Erik’s sexual preference, his mother had always welcomed whoever crossed her path with open arms and heart; ready to accommodate any individual who managed to bring a pinch of joy to her child’s world. Never showing signs of the so common hasty judgment that carelessly composed an excessive portion of popular opinion, Erik's happiness was always one step ahead of the rest of Edie’s priorities, becoming her main task to assure him of her beliefs.

According to the countless phone calls made by Erik over a month’s period, the newly acquired symptoms of his mother had diminished with the application and daily intake of appropriate drugs. The problems, however, were far from being fixed. During the next month, Edie’s symptoms only seemed to aggravate her initial condition.

_Erik crossed the white gate of his mother’s house, tired after a week spent in college and his new internship. Paperwork and even more paperwork belonging to different processes that Erik had been left in charge of solving all by himself. Help was gently offered, but either by the strength of Erik’s pride or the strange feeling he got from his co-workers, it never crossed Erik’s mind to accept it._

_Walking through the corridors of the vast residence, Erik found his mother sitting on the cold kitchen floor. Small salty water droplets ran down her flabby cheeks as both of her trembling arms were desperately searching for some kind of support on the nearest chair._

_"Mutter" Erik dropped his backpack immediately and ran towards Edie. "Mutter, what happened? Are you alright?" His eyes searched for an answer like an eagle alert of its surroundings. A single movement coming from Edie’s chest indicated the woman’s steady breathing, calming part of Erik’s concern._

_"I ..." Edie refused to look her son in the eye, turning her face to stare blankly at legs that did not possess enough strength. "Could you please help me, Erik? I slipped while cleaning the floor and can’t seem to get up."_

_Erik’s arms embraced his mother’s waist tenderly, softening his grip only after making sure of her balance. Worried, he swiftly examined his mother’s body, paying attention to any bruise that may have broken the sensitive tanned skin of his mother during the fall. Luckily, he found nothing._

_"I'll call a cab right away and we’re going to the doctor. This isn’t normal."_

The final diagnosis hadn’t been determined on the first doctor’s visit during that couple of months, nor the second, let alone the third. Several exams were made, succeeded by returns and more returns to different doctors. The two, linked by an intrinsic parental relationship, drove through the town every single week for a professional capable of explaining the main cause of Edie’s recent symptoms, putting all of them together in a single illness.

_"I analyzed your exams with caution, Miss Lehnsherr, and I'm afraid the results aren’t very hopeful." Erik and his mother squirmed impatiently inside the doctor's office, the one now responsible for monitoring Edie and the manifestation of her illness._

_Erik's throat went dry, as if had spent days under the influence of strong solar radiation, focused only on the mucous portion of his respiratory tract. The words refused to leave his cracked lips, afraid of the answer that would follow. "What's wrong with her, doctor?" When it finally came out, his voice was hoarse and slightly shaky._

_"Miss Lehnsherr, it appears that you’re currently suffering from Multiple Sclerosis." A handful of leaflets were scattered on the table, facing the astonished expression of Edie and her son._

_"It’s an autoimmune disease, in which the defense cells of your own body attack a specific part of itself. In this case, the disease affects a kind of protective wrap found around neurons called myelin." From expository pictures in the brochures, the doctor exemplified her sayings with caution and patience. "These injuries primarily affect motor and cognitive skills of the individual, which is evidenced in your own relates of visual and motor failure, Miss Lehnsherr."_

_Erik's vision became blurred, as if he was feeling the disease’s effects without effectively having it. His eyes, not hiding the deep sorrow usually behind its grayish blue color, migrated slowly through the small room, mapping each of his mother’s reaction, the doctor’s young features, and finally resting on the images being shown._

_Edie blinked her eyes repeatedly, just as she was silently asking herself about the reality she was currently witnessing._

_"Is this a genetic disease? Will my son suffer from it as well?” Slowly, Edie asked in a whisper. As usual, placing the state of her most valuable treasure in front of hers. A natural response of her protective characteristics._

_The doctor denied it. "The disease is not hereditary, Miss Lehnsherr. Its causes, though not established, includes environmental and genetic factors. A sum of them, more precisely. "_

_Erik's frown deepened as he listened to the doctor’s words. "What about treatment? It is curable?"_

_"I’m sorry, there is no cure for this disease. The treatments are evolving through the days, and the first step would be to conduct new exams to identify the best way to start with the invasive drugs. It’s also essential that Miss Lehnsherr attends to the physiotherapy sessions in order to maintain the movement of her already injured members."_

The pharmacological therapy helped, delaying some of the disease’s acute effects and offering Edie additional years of life to be fully enjoyed next to her only son. Moments of happiness filled Edie’s days, who was barely aware of the countdown being made by her own body, tragically languished due to deteriorating nerves.

The repeated outbreaks, results of the illness’ advances, became more frequent when Edie celebrated her 65th birthday, reaching the nerves responsible for coordination and inching closer to her extremities. The Multiple Sclerosis, in its progressive form, grew more at each and every year in a slow pace, but not always controlled.

Thus, Edie’s body lost its accumulated energy, no longer able to keep up with the heavy treatment doses in combination of symptoms that only further undermined her life quality. Her movements were debilitated, and even her memory presented clear flaws in midst of conversations with her only child; the only person still able to make a true smile to cross the borders of hidden pain for mere seconds.

Beside his mother, who lay on a hospital bed, Erik's eyes filled with tears when he heard her whisper a last thread of words amid a shaky smile. Typical of someone whose presence was gradually fading from that world.

_"Alles ist gut, Schatz."_

The same as in that current March 15 echoed inside Erik's head like a mantra cited by him every night before surrendering to the deepest of slumbers. The same set of syllables that Erik had decided to color on his own skin, right on the inside of his arm, months after the death of his mother.

Now, stuck in a monotonous routine, Erik watched the beginning of a characteristic orange from the setting sun seeping through the window’s blinds as he stroked the mark on his arm, covered by the thin fabric of his white shirt. The distinctive color reminded him of the amount of flowers he had left at the foot of Edie's grave, changing them each year thereafter looking to see her smile in his direction; either in the form of a simple breeze or the star’s twinkle in the middle of the night.

As the door to his office opened, an icy gale crashed against Erik’s skin, waking him up from his previous melancholic thoughts and forcing him to move his arms to prevent the papers from taking off at speed through the room’s corners.

"Will you be here all day, staring at the window as if you just lost a pet or will you lift that sturdy ass off that chair and visit the cemetery?" Emma crossed her legs neatly, sitting on the opposite side of Erik and looking at him with slight concern.

After ascertaining that time had really passed without his perception, Erik stared back at the woman. "I didn’t notice the clock ticking." An exhaustive sigh left his thin discolored lips. "I still have things to finish."

The moment his fingers moved towards the keyboard of his notebook, the screen was abruptly shut by Emma’s hands. "Ops." The receptionist said without a bit of honesty behind her words. "I'll tell you what you’re going to do, Lehnsherr. Pack your things, go to Xavier’s Flower Shop, get a nice bouquet and head towards the cemetery to visit your mother’s grave. "

Erik's tongue flicked against the roof of his mouth, pursing both eyebrows in disapproval. "And I couldn’t choose any other flower shop?"

"As if you were." Emma rolled her eyes, smoothing the lacy white coat she wore. "I passed by the place a week ago, and I really don’t blame you for being so suddenly infatuated."

"I don’t think I'm following you." Erik murmured, processing the information that reached him as quickly as he could.

Emma stopped her actions and stared fixedly at the Erik’s features, who looked as confused as someone who didn’t understand a silly joke. "Please don’t play dumb, sweetie. You may have a pretty face, but those wrinkles don’t make you more handsome.” She gestured through the corners of Erik’s face without approaching too much.

"He said he is missing your unusual requests."

The words were enough to make Erik’s whole body lift in surprise. "Charles said that?"

Emma showed a triumphant grin. "Good to know you realize who the subject of our conversation is without needing me to tell you." She continued to speak before Erik interrupted her with his seemingly rhetorical questions. "I was curious to know more about the person who finally cracked your dusty shell, making you smile and even apologize. I confess he’s a bit too short for my own tastes, but the charm is surely intriguing.”

Erik huffed and sank even further on his chair, resting his face in one calloused hand. "Shouldn’t you be working right now? Or are you running away from Sebastian again?"

Emma's gaze hovered briefly over the door through which she had entered, returning her pale blue eyes to the man sitting next to her. "You really were inattentive during all these days. Shaw traveled, Erik." She clarified Erik’s recent doubts, who questioned the deafening silence which completely filled the floor.

"I see." The manager said, nodding repeatedly in agreement.

Emma stood up as if she were stepping on clouds, considering the lightness and delicacy of her movements. A mirage for the eyes which got lost within her beautiful presence and an illusion for the poor hearts who became prisoners of such a cold, unchanging love as the one showed by the woman whose clothes were always as achromatic as her feelings.

"Then go." Carefully placing a familiar card on the table, Emma tapped it with her perfectly manicured nails. "I told him that you would be making a short visit today, but didn’t say the reason. It’s up to you reveal it or not."

About to leave the room, Emma turned again. "Send Edie my regards, yes?"

"I will." Erik muttered to himself when he saw the door closing tightly with the wind’s help.

 

The loud and acute sound belonging to the bell resting inside the sapphire-covered store became extremely familiar to Erik's ears, who once again put his vision available to so many beautiful flowers that surrounded him. Each day, a new species was highlighted behind the white-framed windows; a different color ready to be discovered; acknowledgment of one more unusual meaning lurking around such colorful petals. Slowly, the simple place lost the unknown connotation and gained a sense of familiarity in the manager’s eyes. Erik often walked carelessly through the streets and found himself continuously staring at the same store from the other side of the avenue, utterly unaware of the path traced by his own feet.

"Erik!" Those bright blue eyes, which many times disturbed the most peaceful of Erik’s dreams, stared right back at Erik from behind the counter. "I was starting to think you weren’t coming anymore."

Half of a smile was drawn on the manager’s thin lips. "I heard about Emma’s visit." His hands settled deep inside the pockets of his dark gray coat.

Charles’ cheeks flushed subtly. "She's an impressive woman." He politely mentioned, getting rid of the thick gloves protecting his hands.

"If you’d rather call her that, who am I to tell you otherwise." Erik chuckled, bringing one hand to the back of his head and caressing a few auburn strands that insisted on staying stubbornly messy.

Charles followed Erik's gaze, leaning casually on the glassy surface in front of him. "What brought you here at the end of the day, my friend? I look forward to hearing your request."

For a millisecond, Erik thought about what would happen if he didn’t need a ridiculous excuse – a bouquet; to visit Charles’ establishment. He longed for the other man’s presence in his sleep, the sound of his posh accent which managed to somehow bring him peace; the same he had never found elsewhere. However, such thoughts were quickly dispelled by the inside of his mind, later stored in a reserved corner.

"Your sister isn’t here today?" Erik questioned in a subtle strategy to diverge the current subject settled by the florist.

Charles’ face expressed a mixture of surprise and confusion, followed by a slight disappointment, diminishing the gleam of his eyes. "Oh, you want to see her? She is in the back room studying. I can call her if you’d like to." One of his hands pointed to the room over his shoulders as he tried his best to keep the serenity on his features.

"No!" Erik put both hands in front of his body, swaying them in denial. "Please, I don’t want to be a bother." Quickly, the manager recomposed himself, straightening his posture and smoothing his coat as if to ward off millimetric particles of impurities.

Charles remained silent, listening intently to the awkward clear of Erik’s throat.

"What she's studying?" Erik asked.

"Fashion. She’s currently a sophomore in college." The florist took in hand a piece of scribbled paper, folding it incessantly while refusing to meet Erik’s piercing gaze.

Slowly, the manager approached the counter. "And what about you?" His eyebrows arched in curiosity.

The corners of Charles’ lips tilted downward as he spoke using an even tone. "This story isn’t a very interesting one, my friend. After all, you're not here to hear about me but to order a bouquet of flowers, I believe." Even without losing himself on the blueish-gray tone of Erik's eyes, the approach of the man’s husky voice was enough to make Charles’ heart flutter without any given permission. He would never admit that every time the bell rang, Charles silently begged for Erik’s appearance rather than any other costumer looking for pretty ornaments to place on their gardens.

"I suppose you're not reading my intentions, then." Erik lightly tapped his temple. The sound of his Italian leather shoes contrasted with the silence formed, colliding harshly against the cold floor.

Charles, clearly upset by Erik’s words, held a frown in between his eyebrows, breaking with the angelic features of his freckled face. "You know I would never do that without your permission, Erik." His head was still kept down as his fingers trembled against the perforated paper; internally feeling the closeness and clarity of some random thoughts unconsciously projected by the man standing in front of him.

Erik’s steps were no longer heard. "Then you'll have to trust me when I say I'm interested in knowing more about you." The perseverance in Erik’s voice made Charles’ fingers to stop moving, and soon, pale eyes focused on the different skin tone that colored the telepath’s cheeks.

"Honestly, Erik. It’s nothing as important as you’re imagining." Charles, in a remaining attempt, tried to dodge, but couldn’t predict the amount of stubbornness kept inside of Erik.

"Charles..."

The florist rolled his eyes in an act of sheer childishness, releasing a sigh before stuck in his throat. "Alright, remember that you asked for this." His face finally rose from its slumber. Instantly locked in his eyesight, Erik's eyes never seemed so vibrant, even though that was the second time Charles saw them from a small distance. He could barely contain the curvature of his reddened lips at such a wonderful sight.

"I studied three years of biology in Oxford." Erik did not seem surprised by this information, which encouraged Charles to continue. "I lived financially well with Raven, my mother and our stepfather. They were not good parents, if they could even be called such thing. Maybe that’s what made me so close to Raven, since she joined us by my own imperative insistence." After that, Charles heard Erik’s discreet laugh escaping from his mouth.

"However, after the death of my mother, our stepfather took all the inheritance and left us. Raven and I used the money we had saved in the past few years to come here and coincidentally, the only thing my mother legally left me was the apartment in Westchester where we currently live in.”

The manager listened closely, proposing himself to speak, but was prevented by a simple gesture of Charles’ hands.

"I've always loved to study the genetic traits of plants, in particular. So, I decided to open this shop to give Raven a chance to fall in love with something she wants to build a carrier on, which in this case it turned out to be fashion.” His gaze diverged quickly to the door behind him, fondly staring at the place Raven was like she was right beside him.

Frowning in concentration, Erik spoke again. "What would you do if you had the chance to finish your studies?"

"I would probably become a teacher." Charles laughed at his own words. "I know it sounds silly, but since childhood I had a distinct passion for teaching."

Erik's expression instantly softened. "It’s pretty obvious. By the way you talk about flowers and their meanings." He justified himself, suddenly adding next. "You should go after it."

A smile, now fully earnest, illumined Charles’ soft features with the amount of implied sincerity. “Thank you, my friend. Let time fit the remaining pieces of my puzzle."

Erik nodded, allowing the inner satisfaction he felt to show up through a thin thread of thoughts in his mind, letting them to be captured by the telepath who eagerly grinned in reply.

However, Charles also witnessed a certain tension, both in Erik’s lingering thoughts and attitude. "Now that I have fulfilled my part of the agreement, can you tell me what brought you here?"

Even from a distance, Charles could feel the sudden tension and sadness shown by the simple gesture of Erik’s hands, folding themselves on the counter in a retracted form. It was clear that the manager pondered his next words carefully, not wanting to expose too much of himself in front of the florist.

"Someone very dear to me passed away three years ago. And I usually take flowers to her grave ever since. "

Without uttering a word, Charles quietly collected his gloves and searched for a transparent arrangement wrapping with only the edges decorated in a silver line. "I'm very sorry for your loss, Erik."

The manager nodded calmly, following the steps outlined by the telepath towards a small garden of colorful flowers. For the first time, Erik knew how to identify them.

"Carnations." He whispered with conviction.

Charles’ skilled hands separated the more rosettes of the flowers in disposition, arranging them among the reddish ones. "I suppose you like them?" Erik's chest clenched in response by filling with melancholy the next words that left his mouth.

"She loved them." A simple memory invaded his mind, in which the thin hands of his mother stroked the earth under her nails in order to present it with a flower bud.

_"When your father asked me to marry him, Erik, he offered me a beautiful bouquet of red carnations. I never had the chance to find, through all of my life, color as vivid as that." Edie said to the young Erik, who helped her with household chores when not drowning himself in homework._

Now, Erik noted the vibrant red present on the corner of Charles's lips, questioning about the possibility of that being the tone that his mother incessantly always craved for. The flowers chosen to be a part of the bouquet of nothing compared to the pigment present on that shred of skin as thin as strand of hair traveling carelessly through the air.

"Pink carnations convey the meaning of 'I'll never forget you.' While the red ones bring admiration and tenderness to the rest of the bouquet." Charles explained without removing his eyes from the current business, focusing entirely on making the most beautiful of the arrangements for the person by Erik mentioned. Even without knowing her full identity, Charles could feel her importance through a sudden flash of gray eyes.

The atmosphere around them, even heavily settled in the deepest stillness, transmitted a comfort that only the characteristic fragrance of carnations could provide. Words weren’t needed when the telepath easily picked up on Erik’s intentions, as if used to the intoxicating presence of his organized thoughts. Unlike previous times, Erik seemed more reclusive and afraid, blocking most of the sensations he dared to feel. Charles, though he could not prevent some of them from being read, pulled away from Erik’s mind and set up his solid mental barriers in search of a silence that rarely happened nowadays.

The arrangement was soon filled with the most beautiful carnations in store, lost in their own colors and mingling with the green belonging to the artificial ornaments and several whitish pinches; similar to a snowy day, among the flowers, which only highlighted its vibrant appearance.

"It's beautiful, Charles. Thank you." Erik muttered as he returned to the counter for the finishing touches and further payment. "How much do I owe you?" He held out a hand to receive the bouquet in exchange for a fifty-dollar bill. But after a short wait, he realized that wasn’t on the telepath’s plans.

"What do you think you're doing?" The manager asked, seeing how Charles struggled to get rid of the glove and apron, putting a black coat soon after. Everything neatly done without allowing the bouquet to leave his steady hands.

"Isn’t it obvious, my friend? I‘m coming along with you." After straightening the collar of his coat according to his personal tastes, Charles walked to the back room, finding Raven lying on the couch on her elbows as she flipped through the pages of a book.

"Raven, take care of the store until the end of the day and remember to lock the back room before leaving, yes?" Without waiting for a proper response – or a further question, Charles turned back to Erik with an inviting smile.

"Shall we?"

Erik contorted his face in contradiction to Charles’ actions, taking a step back. "You're not coming with me, Charles." His hands were still outstretched, quietly demanding the bouquet held by the telepath.

"And why not, my friend?" Crossing both arms lazily at chest height without damaging the bouquet, Charles waited for a proper answer.

"These issues are personal and mine, not yours." Erik fought hard to organize his thoughts, preventing anger to rise and take charge of his head.

Charles rapidly snorted in a single puff of hot air. "I swear I won’t be making any questions. I just think you’re in need of some kind of company. And in this case, I'm willing to perform this special role for you." He placed a hand on Erik's shoulder as he approached, pushing him towards the door.

"Now we should be going, the cemeteries won’t be staying open for much longer." Erik sighed and let himself be guided by Charles’ soft hands, which were now pressed against his upper back.

The Mount Hebron cemetery was situated around Queens in New York City. Typically Jew, the site built in the early twentieth century had a wide range of tombs dedicated to those who were dear to their respective families. Black gates were surrounded by a structure made of stone, in which was noticeable, in its upper portion, a Star of David along with Hebrew dialects scattered throughout its solid length. Besides the offered traditionalism, the cemetery incorporated in its territory a small memorial, where it was possible to write the name of who was no longer present; and a place reserved specially for the ashes there in rest, disposed on many shelves beautifully organized.

When they arrived in front of the tomb, Charles placed the bouquet in between Erik’s fingers, squeezing his hand in a gesture of encouragement and compassion. 

 

_Edie Lehnsherr  
Here no longer with us on earth, but in our hearts she will always remain_

 

Erik knelt in front of the peculiar stone, taking away the already wilted flowers and replacing them with the new arrangement, coloring the peaceful scenery around them.

"Mama, look what I brought you, the most beautiful carnations I could find in the city." His voice, slightly shaky and accompanied by the most outspoken tenderness, reflected the state of his teary eyes. "I don’t know if one day I’ll be able to give you those red carnations with which you dreamed about, but I will go after them every single year."

One of his hands rested gently against the stone, as if caressing the delicate hand of his mother laying peacefully on the hospital bed.

"I miss you, Mama. Your food, your garden, your words, your presence." A single tear ran down Erik's cheek, falling upon the petals placed in front of him.

Words have never been Erik’s forte, who struggled to express all the feelings ruthlessly crammed inside his chest with the simplest of phrases. One hand clutched on his tattooed arm, miming the movement of his eyes, which forcibly prevented more tears from descending through his face now contorted in pain and sincere sorrow.

"Alles ist gut." He muttered to himself repeatedly. "Ich Liebe dich, Mutter."

The subtle touch of a hand on the one which had a tight grip around the stony surface forced Erik to lift his head in surprise. His eyes were fixed on the pale fingers slowly intertwining with his own, as if testing Erik’s limits. One last teardrop slid down from the corner of his eyes; now terribly reddish, before turning to the owner of such capable hands.

"You are not alone, Erik." The voice, noble and deep with its British accent, whispered. It was impossible to disguise the wet trail present on Charles’ cheeks; thrilled to witness a scene of extreme commotion like the one he had just seen.

"You are not alone." The florist repeated in a firm voice, promising loudly to himself that he would do anything within his reach to bring joy; something as simple as a smile, to the devastated man kneeling in front of him.

There was nothing left for Erik to do but to hold onto that hand with his own life. A gesture that discreetly offered him much more than just a shoulder to cry on during sad moments; more than just floral ornaments to convey the words that he couldn't say out loud; more than a cheerful conversation before dawn; more than a company to walk along with him during the harshest moments of his life.

 

That night, by the time he finally put his lashes to rest, Erik dreamed of the same flowery field that had been tormenting him so constantly during most nights. However, unlike other occasions, there were no adversities to stop him from sitting next to that same man, owner of the brightest blue eyes he had ever seen. The same person who uttered, in his mind, the words which had now turned to be unforgettable.

_"You are not alone."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for anyone who lost someone dear due to an illness just as hurtful as ME, I really am.  
> Thank you for reading and be patient with me for the next chapter, I'm on my finals week and things might get a little hectic.


	4. Get Better Soon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there! Sorry for posting this a bit late, but as I said before, college was driving me crazy (still is, actually) Anyway, here it goes the next chapter. I'd love to hear what you have in mind about the story! Thank you for the Kudos and comments.

Since Charles and Erik's memorable meeting last March 15, their relationship had taken a step forward. Erik's visits became more and more frequent to Charles's familiar and warm flower shop; no longer needing a pretext to talk for hours with who he considered to be now, a good friend.

"Please tell me he was joking," Charles commented, incredulous at the story told by Erik about Shaw's new incidents in their workplace. The victim this time being Janos, the recently hired trainee.

Erik shook his head, surrendering to the smile that blossomed on his face and leaning closer to Charles over the couch present in the back room of the flower shop. It was already after hours, but as usual, both of them got together to share the most unusual facts of their days.

"Not at all." The manager commented, crossing his legs elegantly and grabbing his ankle with both hands. "You should have seen Azazel’s furious face when he saw what was going on."

Charles looked half surprised, raising his eyebrows as he sipped his tea. "Are they...?" He implied, curious about the kind of relationship between Erik's colleagues.

"Boyfriends, yes," Erik said matter-of-factly, barely noticing the hidden insinuation behind such simple words. "If I'm not mistaken it was Azazel who indicated Janos for the job. It was only a matter of time before Shaw hired him. He is a strenuous man, perhaps the most patient of all who work there." He continued to speak, terribly relaxed and lost in the comfort that Charles's presence and the environment around him offered.

"And your boss doesn’t give them a hard time for it?" Erik rolled his eyes at the telepath's question, maliciously curving his thin lips in response.

"I bet he wouldn’t mind if they started fucking in front of him," the manager said, not at all embarrassed by his choice of words. Quite the opposite of Charles, who felt the heat spreading through his cheekbones as he listened to Erik's husky voice uttering such vulgar words.

"What a peculiar person," Charles murmured to himself, hiding behind his mug, which was decorated with several colorful floral designs, scattered evenly across the cold porcelain surface. "I hope he hasn’t been bothering you lately." In an attempt to change the subject, Charles carefully mentioned, mindful of the emotional changes present in the outermost part of Erik's mind.

A reflective hum left Erik’s throat. "Not really," he simply said, keeping from Charles the distorted reality. Each day when Erik was about to leave the office and visit Charles’ flower shop, Emma bombarded him with dozens of questions, almost resembling a police inquiry considering how persistent she had proven herself to be. Little did the manager know that Charles went through infinitely similar problems, changing only the person who tormented him daily.

Erik, with a sigh, shook his head and let the memories of Emma's questioning float to other corners of his mind. "Life has been strangely quiet for the past few weeks." His eyes, surrounded by a calm, serene expression, hovered over the telepath as his body reclined on the comfort of whitish pillows. His mouth contorted into a distinct smile, feeling the amenity that this particular scene - so familiar and natural; provided.

"Did anything exciting happen around here today?" The manager asked, stretching one of his arms behind the sofa, almost touching his fingertips on Charles's shoulder, who simply snorted at the question.

"Unless you consider old people looking for flowers to decorate their houses exciting, I'm afraid not."

A sweet chuckle left Erik's throat, tossing his head against the couch. "They seem to like you." One of the things Erik most admired about Charles was his ability to deal with people, whether they were mutants or just humans. A characteristic that, in a way, the manager never possessed.

"It's not that difficult, Erik. Believe me," Charles mentioned, resting one hand on the manager’s knee. "Be kind to them and in return you will have dozens of smiles turned at you. It's simple." His fingers tightened around the thin fabric of Erik's social pants, feeling the stiffness of the area filled with muscular and bony tissue.

Erik's eyebrows drew closer. Despite the repeated encounters and the usual warm sensation he felt whenever Charles was around, having his thoughts so blatantly read seemed always surprising, fondly speaking.

"I’m sorry." The telepath, realizing Erik’s reaction, blurted. "I'm so used to doing this with Raven. Make no mistake, she also doesn't approve my actions most of the time, but -" Before the babble of words went on, Charles had been cut short.

"It’s fine, Charles. I know how it’s hard for you to suppress it." The seriousness in Erik's voice hid the affectionate look he offered the florist. "Never again apologize for your powers, neither for who you are." After taking a deep breath, the manager kept going with his small speech. "I'll try not to look so annoyed the next time."

Trust, among many other sentiments, had never been considered Erik’s stronghold, who had already experienced the misfortunes that ingenuity could bring him. Since the death of his mother, the manager barely had time for relationships. Most of them being merely an escape valve for the pure carnal pleasure that his body rarely wished for. His only serious relationship had happened one year after the dreadful episode with a woman named Magda, with whom Erik shared all of his deepest secrets; giving a handful of affection and attention, only to watch her leaving him for another man six months later. From then on, barriers were created and shields put in place whenever someone else tried a more intimate approach. 

Nonetheless, the emotions and changes that a single brilliant blue eyed florist provided him with were irrefutable. The softness of his gaze, the laughter, the discreet touches, the idle dreams, the incessant desire. It was as if Erik was gradually transforming into a new person, just like a caterpillar cocooning in order to turn, in the near future, a vibrant butterfly.

"Still." Charles's cheeks showed just how much Erik's words pleased him by the color adopted. "I'll try to be more careful."

Erik nodded, inwardly grateful that the telepath was willing to change his habits because of him. "It's part of your charm, I guess."

Confused, Charles asked. "My telepathy?" The compliment clearly had not passed by unnoticed.

"Maybe." The manager whispered, unaware of his gaze, which got lost within the defects found on the wall in front of him; the white layer that in some places peeled off tackily. "Telepathy, the way you deal with people." Basically everything, Erik meant to say, but kept the thought safe inside his mind.

Erik glanced sideways at the way Charles moistened his lower lip, nibbling it once." Thank you, my friend." The florist cleared his throat. "I consider myself very good at everything you mentioned." He smiled blatantly, feeling not only the swelling of his already engorged ego, but also of his chest clenched in contentment.

Erik snorted, relaxing the muscles of his shoulders. "Always terribly humble. What I’m going to do with you, Charles?" As the smile widened, Erik's teeth were left exposed, encouraging Charles to do the same.

Neither of them cared about the time elapsed, let alone the one lost between mutually attracted laughter, as if struck by opposing ends of a magnet. But as soon as Charles wiped the tears from his eyes’ corner, he felt a slight vibration in his watch. Erik smiled, now discreetly, as he signaled for Charles to tell him the time, even though he could have seen it on his own.

"Good God." The clock’s hands combined pointed at 8:52 PM "Your second mutation is to make time pass faster than it should?" Charles joked, stunned at the fluidity of their conversation. His fingers ran through his chestnut hair, tangling loosely in between the thin strands and trying his best to straighten them. "It's a surprise that Raven hasn’t called me yet. I think we should go, we'll have another long day tomorrow." He remarked as he got up, stretching himself casually and trying to hide a yawn with the back of one hand.

Erik didn’t seem surprised at the speed with which time flew by, but his eyes did notice the thin line of pale abdomen exposed the instant that Charles's lilac sweater lifted with the movement of his arms. "Let’s hope for a bit more of excitement tomorrow." The manager suggested, mimicking Charles's actions and letting himself be influenced by Charles’ yawn. "Don’t do that again" His frown failed to convey seriousness.

"Have you ever noticed that a yawn always attracts others? As long as you're looking at the person, of course." Charles commented, gathering his belongings and walking towards the door after making sure that all items were in his pockets.

Erik crouched down to retrieve his leather briefcase and picked up his coat draped on an armchair. "Will you change the focus of your studies to yawns now?" He questioned, raising his eyebrows that followed the playful tone of his husky voice.

The door opened and was quickly locked. "Let's leave it to those stupid studies that always end up in the cover of a magazine, my friend." The laughter that succeeded mingled with the raucous sound of water droplets colliding against the window pane and the sidewalk.

"So, I control time and you the weather?" Erik teased again, gaining a gleaming smile in reply.

"What a beautiful pair we make," Charles added, noticing the way Erik seemed to agree with his words.

From inside his briefcase, Erik pulled out a compact black umbrella, offering it to the telepath at his side. "Here. Your trip is longer than mine and the rain doesn’t seem very friendly to me."

"I must have an umbrella lying around here..." Charles glanced around quickly, wondering about the whereabouts of the last umbrella he saw resting around the store. Maybe Raven had taken it; made perfect sense.

"You can stop searching." Erik said loudly, getting Charles’ attention briefly. "If there was any of them around here I would be able to feel it." With his powers, Erik's umbrella levitated into Charles’ hands, which casually returned it seconds later.

"You don’t need to worry about me. I'll get a taxi around the corner and everything will be fine." Charles covered his head with his coat hanging by the door and offered Erik a simple thank you.

Politely, Erik left the establishment and protected only the telepath from the rain which insisted on dripping over them both - considering the small size of his umbrella. He waited patiently for the lock to click twice, announcing the different paths they would take to their respective homes.

Charles turned and was astonished at the proximity of their bodies, separated only by the umbrella’s metallic hanger. An embarrassed smile graced the corners of his face as he silently thanked the faint illumination around him, thus not showing the blush of his freckled Caucasian skin. Erik, as much as he tried to avoid it, couldn’t take his eyes off the telepath and his lovely features, completely bewitched by the beauty found in so many different colors, which intensified even more as Charles's teeth pressed against his lower lip.

Their gazes finally crossed, reflected in the yellow light of the public road and drowning themselves in such a sight, like a black hole that drew them unconsciously closer. Breaths quickened in the same rhythm of both hearts, which incessantly hammered against their chests, inflated by the most spontaneous anticipation.

Erik gasped as one of Charles's hands clasped the back of his neck gently, almost uncertain about his actions. His thin lips parted, whispering the telepath's name as pale arms pulled him closer. His eyes closed instinctively and a press of plump, velvety lips brushed against his cheek; gesture that distributed chills throughout the length of Erik’s body. Enough to warm it up considering the temperature drop caused by the rainfall.

"Have a good night, Erik." The British accent, definitely more enhanced, echoed in Erik's ears. The other noises from thunders and water droplets falling from the clouds against the ground were completely ignored, as if nothing else existed during that intimate moment.

The heat brought by Charles's presence soon dissipated and Erik watched his silhouette disappear into a heavy haze. His senses reassembled from its dazed state, and after seconds that seemed like hours, his body was able to move in the opposite direction. The pain that Erik felt from smiling too much on the way back to his apartment was barely noticed, being considered nothing more than a mere tingling on the surface of his angular face.

The scene repeated itself in that same whimsical flowery field of so many nights, with stars illuminating even the darkest shadows. But unlike reality, Erik was able to approach the chestnut-haired man and kiss him as he wished for hours ago. His mind deceived him, presenting the manager with a fake heat that spread through his body after the subtlest of touches between their lips; making him believe for a few moments that perhaps this was not just an illusion created by his subconscious, but a moment full of the purest emotion felt by Erik.

On the next day, while Erik was arranging his belongings, Azazel appeared at his door. "Where are you going in such a hurry? You got yourself a girlfriend?" The Russian-descendant asked, anchoring himself on the door frame.

"I have a..." Date didn’t seem to be the most appropriate word for his casual visit to Charles’ flower shop almost every day after work. "I'm only going to meet a friend," he corrected himself, but not before looking at the wicked smile outlined by a thick dark goatee.

"Friend? Right." Azazel said sarcastically, crossing his arms effortlessly in front of his chest.

Erik resisted the temptation to roll his eyes in disdain, murmuring coarsely instead. "You sound just like Emma. You’re spending far too much time together." The manager concluded, closing his briefcase with the aid of his powers and walking towards his colleague.

"Or maybe you're pretending to be a blind man." Erik's response came in a single sound from his throat, incredulous at the red-skinned mutant's assumption.

"Janos must be looking for you," the manager said, making the elevator’s doors to move faster so he could close his eyes for a few seconds and take a deep breath. Opening them again, Erik's feet took him instantly to the place where he spent most evenings and even a large part of his nights.

The bell rang as usual, its beats assimilating to the rapid, latent throbbing of Erik's heart, which seemed more and more anxious for the company of a certain blue-eyed telepath. The flower’s smell invaded him hastily; a fragrance slightly woody and kind of bittersweet. Lying on the counter, Erik could see three figures: Hank, Raven, and a woman with shoulder-length brown hair, dressed in a gray knee-length social skirt and a thin white shirt.

"Please ask Charles to take a look at these papers and sign them as soon as possible so we can move along with the rest of the process." The woman spoke as Erik approached, pointing to a folder of documents placed on the counter with her manicured nails.

Raven and Hank’s attention, however, shifted at the sight of Erik’s figure. "Erik! How are you?" Raven exclaimed, waving excitedly from a distance.

"Erik Lehnsherr? The man of the atrocious requests?" With one hand resting on her hip, the unknown woman measured the tall man at her side with a brief smile dancing around her lips.

Politely, Erik turned to Raven and Hank, greeting them curtly. "Raven, Hank. I'm fine, thanks." His gray eyes then stared coldly at the woman who looked at him as if she somehow already knew him. "And you are?"

"Moira McTaggert, it's a pleasure. I'm Charles's lawyer and a friend during my spare time." The woman offered a smile and her left hand, displaying a sparkling golden band on her ring finger.

Erik nodded slowly, feeling the purity of the metal that quickly brushed against the palm of his hand. "Equally. I hope he told you nice things about me."

Moira shrugged. "I heard some stories. Handsome, single, possibly bisexual, has temperamental issues, a few friends, and works all day for an asshole." Across the counter, Raven placed one hand in front of her mouth, suppressing a gaping laugh.

Hiding the apparent surprise, Erik silently directed his question to Raven. "Did he go out to make a delivery or something?"

Before Raven could respond, Moira stole her speech. "Charles is sick, probably suffering and groaning inside that gigantic apartment and trying to call Raven every ten minutes saying he wants to come to work." Confirming the words, the adopted sister nodded.

"It’s true. It was a struggle to convince him that a day or two off wouldn’t bring any trouble to the store." Raven sighed, leaning her elbows on the counter.

Erik felt immediately guilty for not insisting on Charles’ safety during last night's pouring rain, which probably was the reason for his sudden sickness. His features fell shut like the darkening clouds that transfigured into a different shape every minute up in the sky; fingers slowly writhed inside the pockets of his coat, only stopping at the sound of Raven's voice coming through his ears.

"He doesn’t feed himself properly and yesterday he was completely soaked as he walked in. This morning I almost slipped on the traces he left behind." The young attendant complained, gaining a funny look from Hank.

"I think Charles needs a visit," Moira suggested, staring at Erik. "You could seize the chance and take these documents to him." Her fingers tapped the object resting on the glassy counter.

Raven defended the proposal happily. "It's a great idea! Here, I'll write the address for you." The back of a card from the store was stained with bluish ink, placed successively in Erik's hands.

Hank, adjusting his glasses’ frame, looked at the flowers around carefully. "Charles would appreciate some flowers too. I’ve heard that sages are propitious for those who are sick." He commented with a hint of shyness, without facing Erik properly.

"Perfect!" Raven laughed jovially and discreetly, placing a kiss on Hank's slightly pink cheeks and moving from one side to another in search of the necessary items to make a small bouquet that was soon handed to Erik.

On the manager’s arms a collection of long, red, greenish-leafed flowers stood out from the cold colors of his clothes, conveying all the joy that was not so easily visible on the pale surface of his irises.

Moira collected her purse and briefcase, placing it under Erik's already over-crowded arms. "Here, don’t forget about it." She smiled without showing her teeth, pushing him towards the exit. "Thank you for your attention, Raven, Hank. I’ll come by next week." A small farewell was given, being mimed by both who remained inside the shop. And then a cold spring air greeted them in a single gust outside the store.

The extremely direct honesty of the woman who accompanied Erik on his short walk to the nearest taxi stand showed itself quickly. "If you hurt him in any way, Lehnsherr, I'll make sure to tarnish your image all over the city and overseas. Did you hear me?"

"It's not on my plans," Erik replied; the wrinkles on his forehead intensifying in irritation, but at the same time appreciating the concern of someone as close to Charles as she appeared to be. "But we're not even -"

Moira rolled her eyes, sighing as if she had heard the same sentence several times over a short period of time. "You see each other more than I see my own husband, Erik." Moira joked, but her expression remained neutral. "I know Charles has that outgoing and affectionate way with basically everyone around him, but in fact he doesn’t usually spend more than two weeks together with one person. It's a rare thing." She commented with a sad smile on her lips covered in a nude artificial coloring.

Erik was silent for a few seconds, reflecting on the information just received. "If it helps you sleep at night, I don’t usually relate to many people. Not like this." Truth hurt when exposed so openly. However, ever since a long time ago, Erik did not care about his personality traits, accepting them the way they were constituted over the years.

"I know." One of the woman's hands rested on Erik's shoulder. "God knows how he needs someone like you to take care of him." Moira opened the nearest taxi door politely. "I honestly hope you know how to cook," she added, laughing along the sound that left Erik’s thoat and closing the door with a brief nod.

"Goodbye, Moira," Erik said before turning to the driver and giving him the address of his destination.

The Westchester County, named after the English city of Chester, was popularly known for its richness and natural landscapes, bounded by the Hudson River in west and by the rocky shoreline of the Long Island Sound in east. The grandiose and luxuriant residences, characterized by a giant terrain that surrounded them, spread through the streets with a typically English architecture. In the farthest reaches of civilization it was possible to see extensive fields covered by the most vibrant of grams, resembling the movies commonly seen in theaters. The mansions occupied entire quarters with their large wooden structures, worthy of kings and queens who belonged to an era that no longer existed there.

When he reached Christie Street, Erik stared wide-eyed at the two apartment blocks that occupied the whole street, separated by a simple driveway. Several windows decorated the white and beige columns that alternated elegantly throughout the structure. Its exterior was similar to a five-stars hotel, in which only a single night would cost all of the amount accumulated until then in Erik’s bank account.

After paying for the costly trip, the manager walked slowly to the well-lit reception, with a crystal chandelier running down the ceiling by a thin metal wire. His eyes went back to the small card in his hands to check the apartment number.

The man wearing an impeccable social suit cordially pointed to one of the three elevators; the one which would take him to the second floor. Erik succinctly thanked him, sighing as the doors closed; trying to calm the anxiety that bubbled inside him.

When the metal gates ran to opposite sides, Erik came upon an open door, leading to a gracious apartment; the only one on the floor. A short hallway guided the manager to a spacious living room. The furniture was elaborate, made by an interior designer who clearly stood out in his profession. A mirrored wall with glittering crystals caught his attention, reflecting the white light of the spots that illuminated them. A black leather sofa with two armchairs on its sides and a gigantic television on the opposite wall. Famous paintings fixed on each wall, whether rough by the delicate texture or covered in a colorful wallpaper, perfectly matching the furniture found.

"Ah, Erik. Could you close the door, please? "A nasal, husky voice, still with the polished British accent, echoed from the room next door.

Following the request, Erik walked slowly in the direction of the previous sound; all of his belongings in hand. The scene his grayish eyes witnessed made a smile naturally bloom out of Erik's solid features.

Standing in front of the stove was Charles, wrapped in a thick blanket of three types of brown stripes, each one of a different shade. The chestnut strands burst into tangles with no definite direction, pointing to every possible corner of the kitchen in black and white tiles.

As the telepath turned to greet the visitor, his swollen, tired eyes hovered over the reddish bouquet in Erik's hands. "Sages!" Charles accepted them with excitement, arranging a vessel to hydrate them properly.

"Hank said they are good for your state of health." Erik relaxed his body, finally free of one of the items that made it quite hard for him to move around.

Charles nodded slowly, wincing at the throbbing headache pounding inside his head. "A strong healing plant, though I’d rather keep them instead of making tea out of it.” He smiled as he saw them beautifying the interior of his kitchen. "Very beautiful indeed. Thank you for your concern, Erik." The freckles on Charles's face became even more prominent with the reddening of his nose and cheeks. "And here I was, thinking that Raven had finally learned something."

They both laughed at the remark. The manager broke the moment by clearing his throat quickly, feeling it suddenly dry. "Your lawyer, Moira, was there too. She asked me to give you some documents. "

The telepath shook both hands unconcernedly. "You can leave those anywhere, honestly. I'll deal with them when I'm more willing and patient." After offering Erik a brief smile, he returned to the stove, curling both hands and warming them in the steam exhaled by the kettle under one of the burners.

"Make yourself at home, my friend. Would you like a cup of tea? It's fennel." Looking at the manager over his shoulders, Charles pointed to a nearby chair.

Erik simply took off his coat and walked to Charles. "I’ll take it, thank you. Where do you keep the mugs?" One of his hands rested on the telepath’s shoulder, who pointed to the top cabinet, where his arms couldn’t reach.

Staring at the teakettle, Charles struggled not to think about the heat that surmounted the barrier of his blue pajamas and heavy blanket surrounding his body. Mission almost impossible when the telepath felt Erik's chest brushing subtly against his back, offering all the contact he wished for several afternoons and evenings.

Aware of the dark blush covering his cheeks, Charles coughed in one hand. An action that earned a worried look from Erik as he closed the cabinet door and moved away from the telepath.

"Is everything okay?" The manager asked, massaging Charles's back to expel the phlegm trapped in his lungs. "You look a bit warm." A chill ran down the telepath's spine as he felt the pressure of Erik's elegant fingers on his forehead, bristling the hair on his arms and legs.

Charles allowed his eyelids to flutter down for mere seconds. "Probably just the fever coming back," he murmured, pleading inwardly for the uncomfortable sensation to cease at once. And wondering why the hell Erik's voice had to be so terribly seductive.

"Go rest for a bit, Charles. Let me take care of this." Erik tried to argue, pushing Charles away from the stove with both hands. But his actions were hampered by the telepath’s stubbornness.

"I'm not an invalid, I just have a cold! And yet I think I would be able to make my own tea, thank you very much." Charles countered irritably, freeing himself from Erik’s hands and adjusting the blanket sliding down from his body. He then turned again towards the kettle, which whistled in a shrill cry.

Erik raised his hands in a gesture of sheer surrender. "I was just trying to help." Feeling slightly angry, Erik started to walk away the instant Charles's hand circled his wrist.

"Erik, I'm really sorry." The telepath sighed wearily, squeezing the bony bridge of his nose with two of his fingers. "My whole body is in pain, my nose is dripping, my throat is sore and my head is aching a whole lot." He justified himself, looking at Erik with his brilliant blue eyes and asking for a drop of sympathy. "I'm not used to people doing things for me. Not when I can do them on my own. "

At that moment, the words spoken by Moira floated to the surface of Erik's mind, making him smile in response.

Walking to the counter, the manager took one of the mugs, filled to the brim with tea, and placed it around Charles's fingers. "Go to the couch. I'll make something for us to eat."

_Us_

How long ago they ceased to be just Charles and Erik, separately, to become each other’s complement. They. Together. Charles asked himself, trapping his lower lip between his teeth and coughing again. This time though, slightly embarrassed by his thoughts. "Thank you, my friend." He strode to the couch without any further protest, sinking into the cushions comfortably.

Eventually the food’s smell attracted the telepath who slowly regained his energies, floating easily to the kitchen as in the scene of a rubbish cartoon.

"What are you making?" He asked curiously, looking at the large stainless steel pot on the stove and the utensils used by Erik being washed.

After placing the last knife in the dish rack, Erik turned as he wiped his hands. "Chicken soup. A few more minutes and it should be ready." The corners of his lips curved up naturally when he looked towards Charles, checking the state of soup right after.

"You never told me about your culinary skills" Charles said, leaning on the black marble counter that separated the two environments; one dedicated to the manufacture of food and one for the consumption of the same.

"One of the many things my mother taught me." Erik looked at his shoes, the previous smile dropping from his face.

"At least one of us knows how to. The only thing I can do is tea, and once I forgot the boiling water with herbs and everything was lost." His pale hands traveled through his hair, hiding a yawn that followed from his mouth.

With an affectionate look, Erik measured Charles pose. He could hardly stand straight at that time. Nothing would please the manager more than bring his friend's body closer, into his arms. His fingers clenched tightly on the damp dish cloth that was still in his possession, suppressing the pulsating desire running through his veins.

"Let's eat and then I’ll let you rest in peace. I just came by to see how you were feeling." Erik said, turning off the fire and looking out for a couple of plates and silverware.

Charles nodded, helping to set the table and allowing Erik to serve him. The smell was enough to make his mouth salivate in desire for some of that promised flavor.

"That's wonderful, Erik." Charles grunted in delight. It had been a long time since he experienced something so homey and delicious.

"I'm glad you liked it." Erik answered truthfully.

The dinner proceeded in silence, both sides too concentrated in tasting so many spices that together made up each spoonful of soup. The softness of the vegetables; chicken breast that unraveled over the smallest contact with pointy teeth; spices that sometimes sweetened, sometimes salted. There was no doubt in Charles’ mind that Erik was an exceptional cook.

_I will gladly cook for you again if you ask me._

Erik projected in reply to some of Charles's thoughts, accidentally delivered at him.

_I’d like that very much._

The telepath said in response, flushing due to the carelessness of his mind.

Erik gathered all dirty dishes together and put them in the sink, cleaning them quickly and freeing Charles - or Raven; from more household chores. What remained of the dinner was stored in the fridge so that Charles could eat whenever he’d like to.

Looking back, Erik was faced with the telepath’s figure, supporting his face in one hand and struggling to keep his eyes open. Erik’s heart filled with the purest tenderness. An uncontrollable urge to take care of the one in front of him; protect him from all the misfortune that could one day affect him; cure him of the possible traumas that had already caused him trouble.

"Charles." The manager called him in a whisper, slowly massaging his tense shoulders. "You should go to bed."

"I don’t want to." His lips curved into a pout. Surrendering to fatigue, Charles laid his head on his folded arms, totally oblivious to Erik’s words.

"I refuse to carry you on my arms. Come on." With a slight pull, Erik raised Charles’ body, holding him steadily with an arm around his waist until he found minimum balance.

Wandering around the huge apartment, Erik walked inside two different rooms - one being a bathroom and other an office; before finally entering a space that appeared to belong to Charles. The characteristic smell of the telepath came through his nostrils; a fragrance of books, mixed with the cotton from his cardigans and a flowery sweet scent from the ones that adorned the wooden nightstand. It was numbing enough for Erik to hope for one more night along with the telepath’s company.

Once Erik positioned Charles on his bed, the telepath soon slipped through the messy sheets, hugging his pillow and blinking repeatedly to better stare at the man standing close to his bed. A comforting sigh left his lips, feeling the warmth spreading through his body as Erik gently covered him with the stripped blanket which was previously wrapped around Charles’ figure.

Sitting on the bed, Erik checked Charles’ temperature, which appeared to have cooled down a bit. "Get some rest and you’ll be feeling brand new by tomorrow." He offered the telepath one last smile before moving to get up.

However, before Erik could go, Charles grabbed the hand close to his forehead. "Don’t leave." He murmured.

Erik's hand detached itself from Charles’ and stroked the cherished skin of his cheeks. "You need to sleep." He mentioned in a low voice; trying to hide the sound of his heartbeats, rapidly pounding inside his chest.

"I will, if you stay here with me." Charles insisted, unconsciously leaning towards the hand that touched his skin so gently.

"I have to work tomorrow morning." As Erik arranged additional excuses, the more his own body approached the person who made him feel so terribly good; better than any other one ever succeeded in making.

"I will pay for the taxi fare and any other expenses." Bright blue eyes widened in despair. "I just don’t want you to go." The telepath propped himself up on his elbows, propelling his body forward, against Erik’s.

The manager’s gaze flicked quickly to the pair of reddened lips being wet by the tip of a tongue right in front of him, tempting him to make a decision which he would probably regret later.

"Please, Erik."

The plead marked the last straw, cracking the solid walls erected by the manager in order to protect his own emotion; suppress his own desires. The hand in touch with soft pale skin ran down to Charles’ neck, stroking the few chestnut hairs on his nape and pulling him closer. Miming the gesture made by Charles the night before.

Time seemed to freeze when Charles’ fingers pressed against Erik’s mouth, preventing his malicious intentions. Erik felt his chest constricting in fear by feeling the telepath's rejection, even with a lack of words. How could he act so foolishly? Without even thinking about what he was about to do or how Charles would feel about it all.

"You'll get sick." Charles mentioned amid a smile, closing his eyes to feel Erik’s heavy breathing colliding against his face.

The clock started to tick once again and Erik’s little world of fantasies regained the colors that had been lost from Charles’ careless gesture. There was still hope.

"I don’t care." Erik hissed through clenched teeth before moving Charles’ fingers and sealing their lips together in a bruising and possessive kiss as he had dreamed to do on several occasions.

The kiss, though extremely passionate, remained chaste. A simple press of mouths, saving in their respective memories every feature - texture and flavor; of the other in close contact with their own. In thought, both were able to feel every bit of emotion put into that one act of tenderness and passion. Their hands didn’t move more than they should, still in contact with the face of the one they kissed so deliberately, without second glances. The feelings there exchanged in reciprocity, however, proved to be more than enough to satisfy the most hidden desires of each party.

Millimeters separated the slightly engorged and glistening lips. Their bodies suffering from chills in result of the hot air emanating from their mouths brushing against the thin moistened skin.

"Will you be spending the night with me now?" Charles whispered, briefly locking their lips together only by grace of kissing Erik as often as he wanted.

"We're going to sleep." Erik strengthened, not containing the passionate look he sent towards the telepath. Much less the smile which blossomed around his face, illuminating it completely even in darkness.

Charles laughed, pulling the manager's arms with almost no strength. "I think I'm not in a position to do anything further than that." All the energy he had left was being used to keep his eyes open and voice steady.

Erik stripped off his pants and joined Charles among the blankets around him. Opening his arms as a silent invitation, the telepath quickly snuggled on Erik’s chest, listening carefully to his heartbeat; almost as fast as those from his own.

The last thing Charles felt before allowing his body to be carried away by fatigue were Erik's lips in touch with his forehead, mumbling a set of words, which accidently or not, were projected directly into his mind.

_"Good night, Charles."_


	5. I Love You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Should have posted this last week, but life got in the way. But I'm here to give you this beauty of a chapter and to say that this is the last one of the actual story. There will be another one, which is just a 'bonus' chapter filled with nothing but smut, because we need all it. 
> 
> Thank you so much for everyone who enjoyed the story and its development, I'm planning to write more Cherik, so wait for me in the future! Tell me your thoughts at the end and forgive me for any horrid mistakes.

[The](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QUn-k0jzbFs) moment a few sun rays started to make their way inside the room, piercing through the window glass and a thick layer of cream colored curtains, Erik became aware of his actions. He could feel an additional weight on his left arm, a leg entwined with his own, an arm thrown lazily across his stomach and a hot breath being expelled against the soft skin of his neck; informing him that he was not alone in this room, which did not belong to him. Slowly, his eyelids allowed a bit of light to get in, repeatedly moving until his eyesight stopped burning due to local clarity. His eyes instantly turned to the figure at his side, sleeping peacefully. The quiet, calm expression on the corners of Charles's face made Erik believe that perhaps he was trapped inside the fantastic reality of his dreams and not actually experiencing that specific moment; completely alert of his inquisitive thoughts and silent questionings.

Seconds, minutes or even hours were lost during that intimate moment, in which Erik found himself fully intoxicated as he watched the scene covered by natural daylight. His mind carved in memory every detail present on Charles’ face; each freckle exposed around pale cheeks and slightly elongated nose, each tremble of short black eyelashes, each rise of chest causing its compact body to be partially pressed to the mattress. The light reflected on his messy hair, high lightening a handful of reddish strands lost in between brown ones, just as it did to those whose tips protruded from the pores around Charles's face, creating a thin stubble to be shaven later on.

Erik watched him static, his lips being tugged upwards by their own will in contentment and tenderness to the one who seemed in peace with his own turbulent thoughts. The tip of his fingers traced the telepath's arm, afraid that a sharper touch would wake him from his dreams.

However, it did not take long for the same previous serene face to squirm in discomfort, automatically responding to the brightness and gradually sinking his face in the space between Erik’s shoulder and neck.

"What time is it?" A hoarse, sleepy voice with a brightened and slightly faded British accent echoed in the imaginary little bubble that enveloped only the bed on which they had slept. Its limbs imitated the movement of its eyelids and face, contracting and relaxing soon after, waking up the muscles so far dormant.

"Glad you woke up. I thought I'd have to push you out of the bed to get up." Erik replied sarcastically, not even bothering to look at the current time.

Charles grunted, exhaling against the cotton cloth clinging to the manager's body. "Why didn’t you take this off before sleeping?" His hands reached for the untied buttons, brushing his fingertips against the slim, yet defined abdomen.

Erik entwined his fingers with those belonging to the pale hand that made its way down his torso, bringing it close to his mouth. "Maybe because someone was desperately trying to get me into bed."

They both burst into laughter at the comment, making their glistering eyes and lazy smiles to meet, facing each other as it were the most natural gesture in the universe.

Charles sighed, slowly opening his eyes and letting them fall against Erik's greyish and slightly greenish orbs. He could look into the same eyes every day of his life and still be unable to decipher their exact color, endowed with such exotic and scandalous beauty; mutable according to the amount of light incising over them, as well as the colored scales of an admirable chameleon.

His own eyes closed instantly, focusing on lengthy fingers brushing through his hair and massaging the back of his neck with a certain affability and caution.

“How are you feeling?” Erik asked in a whisper, almost as smooth as the movement of his hands.

After swallowing a bit of saliva to check the health state of his throat and stretching his whole body lazily; arching his back and fingers almost like a feline, Charles smiled in reply. "My head doesn’t hurt that much anymore, my throat seems slightly better and my body way less sore." A single laugh escaped through the space between his lips. "I'd say you're a great remedy for colds."

"You should thank the chicken soup, it's really miraculous." Erik brought Charles's face closer, placing a simple kiss on his forehead.

“Well, you were responsible for the soup. So, I guess I should continue to thank you." Sneakily, Charles stole a kiss from the man lying next to him, allowing a mischievous smile to emerge from his slightly swollen lips soon after.

Erik did not show any kind of reaction as he felt Charles’ lips against his; only raised a single brow warningly. "You're going make me sick." He commented nonchalantly, but also not complaining about the gesture received.

Charles's body separated from Erik’s, rolling his eyes in disdain. "Oh, shut up. Like you really care." He replied, feeling energized that particular morning. His eyes shifted from the man on his bed to the clock on the nightstand.

"I think you should go to work," the telepath suggested, worried about how late it already was.

Erik, leaning now on his elbows, stared at Charles's troubled expression. "Kicking me out so early, Charles?"

The telepath crawled in Erik's direction, circling his thin waist with both legs and resting on his own knees. "Make no mistake, my dear, I'd keep you here on this bed with me all day if I could." His eyes quickly ran over the exposed part of Erik's torso, trapping his lower lip between his upper teeth and admiring the sight for a few seconds before once again finding the slightly dilated pupils that were searching for him. "But unfortunately, it's nine o’clock in the morning and I think you're already late for work. Should I prepare an apology bouquet for your boss this time?"

"Shit." Erik was surprised by the time since he rarely slept past seven in the morning. He gently pushed Charles aside, getting rid of the inviting weight and heat that were pressed against his body and quickly getting up. "Shaw’s going to kill me. I hope Emma has invented a good excuse." The manager murmured as he pulled on his pair of pants and buttoned his clogged shirt.

Charles watched him silently, sitting cross-legged on the bed. The back of his hand scratched the corner of his eyes, hiding the weariness present behind such a distinct and vibrant color.

"Why don’t you have a cup of coffee before you go?" The telepath offered gently.

As he finished buckling his belt, Erik looked at the bed and smiled fondly in response. All the anxiety accumulated in his body momentarily dissipated through the room’s fragrance, so familiar and captivating. This was the effect that the mere presence of Charles caused all around him.

"Thank you for the invitation." The manager approached, taking Charles's face in both hands and stroking his cheeks before kissing them. "But I think I'd better buy something on the way." His expression twitched briefly, saddened that he had to leave that place; that person, in particular.

Charles nodded, arranging the awkward collar of Erik’s white shirt. "We'll rain check that coffee," he said without caring too much, but internally wishing Erik would stay for even a few minutes more.

"Definitely." Erik forced a smile and reluctantly disengaged himself from Charles. "I'll call you later. Rest and remember there’s soup in the fridge, it’ll make you feel better."

After putting on his coat and grabbing his black leather briefcase, Erik looked back once more into the cozy and spacious apartment with a peculiar fondness hid behind his eyes; wandering thoughts forced him to remember about the memorable moments from last night before as a sweet smile tugged his lips upwards. It was with a great heartache that Erik left the building, getting inside the nearest taxi and heading off to work to avoid further chaos.

 

"If Shaw asks, you got completely wasted last night and didn’t wake up," Emma said as she saw the manager's figure dashing past the reception desk.

Erik paused at once, turning to face the receptionist. "I got wasted? How old do you think I am, Emma? Twenty?" He questioned indignantly, raising both arms in harmony with his turbulent feelings.

Diverting her eyes from the computer screen, Emma grinned mischievously as she noticed the peculiarities of Erik's appearance at that moment. "What did you want me to say, sweetheart? You have no friends or relatives to be your last-minute alibi. I should have told him the truth, that you were too busy pleasing your cute boyfriend, weren’t you?"

Erik's lips formed a thin tight line, mimicking the state of his grinding teeth inside his mouth. "Stop reading my thoughts," he warned her, letting himself be overwhelmed by the anger emanating from the depths of his body.

"I don’t have to," Emma replied seriously. "You're wearing yesterday’s clothes and your hair is terribly messy. Besides, I can smell the flowers and cotton from here." A purely ironic smile was formed between the receptionist's impeccable features, who idly raised one single finger to point in the direction of every detail she had previously mentioned.

Snorting at Emma’s remarks, Erik minimally evened the impertinent strands of reddish hair and relaxed his fingers, which had tightened their grip against the briefcase’s handle, just as a handful of air left the space between his lips.

"He didn’t even care, Erik. He said you were possibly in need of some alcohol." Emma leaned back in her chair, crossing both hands on top of her knees like someone who belonged to the high society. "Go to your work-room. I'll ask about the remaining details over lunch." She shrugged, turning her attention back to the computer screen.

"There's nothing left to tell," Erik murmured, smoothing his coat in an attempt to appear more presentable in the eyes of his boss and staff.

"Erik, dear, there's always something to tell." Emma's smile mingled with the brightness of the electronic device in front of her, barely being noticed by those who saw her through the glass door. A gesture reserved only for Erik, who had already departed to his personal room.

With no other viable escape route, Erik found himself trapped in a small family restaurant near the building where he worked. Sitting on the opposite side, the golden-haired woman leaned on the dark wooded table with both elbows, waiting coldly for the manager's thoughts, which would soon be vocalized.

After an extended sigh, Erik began to speak - in the most summarized way; about the many events which had happened during those last months involving him and Charles, guarding most of the details for himself. His dialect rambled through the most random facts, from conversations in the back room to teas and coffees shared in the late afternoons, ending at Erik's visit on the day before, fact that resulted in his fateful delay. There were peculiarities, such as the glow in Charles's dazzling blue eyes in the morning, the redness of his lips after nibbling at them, the smug tones of his voice as he pleaded for a favor, the lovely melody of his laughter; all of them were kept only in secret thoughts to the manager's own delight.

"Honey," Emma announced loudly; her expression becoming less neutral and more compassionate with every word said by Erik, every smile unconsciously presented by him as he spoke of the telepath who so immensely captivated him. "You're really in too deep."

 

"Alright, let me see if I got this right," Moira said, wiping the soup droplets that remained on the corners of her mouth with a paper napkin. "Erik came over here last night, cooked for you, put you in bed, gave you a kiss, and left in the morning after offering you fond looks while brushing your hair?" Beside her, sitting in front of the counter, Charles nodded. "And yet you refuse to say that you’re in a relationship?"

"Oh, Moira. I wish it was that simple." The telepath sighed, shaking his head in denial. "We never spoke about any of these feelings. And what if it was all just a lapse of his personality? What if he regrets it later on?" He began to create desperate hypotheses for Erik's behavior - even though he was aware of the truth that kept insistently pursuing him to the depths of his mind; stopping only when he found the silent judgment of his lawyer, who stared at him stupefied.

"Charles, I love you, but you need to stop with those crazy ideas. It's obvious what you feel for each other." The florist's features softened as one of Moira's delicate hands rested on his shoulder.

Locking his lower lip between incisive teeth, Charles turned his head slowly to face the woman at his side. "You really think so?" His heart fluttered and blood was then pumped quickly to the rest of his body, accumulating mostly in the back of his ears, neck and cheeks.

"I'm absolutely sure," Moira stated with determination, pressing her fingers against the fabric of Charles's pajamas. "Now quit with your martyrdom and take a shower. Then you’re going to grab that man and kiss him with all you’ve got." They both laughed briefly, falling even harder into it when their eyes crossed.

As Charles rose, retreating to his room, he could hear Moira's voice echoing through the thin walls of his apartment. "I'm serious, you can’t possibly let go of a man who cooks so well, Charles!"

 

The sun, shrouded by the clouds that together gave life and form to the imagination of those watching them, prepared to disappear before the gray horizon and give place to the moon about to adorn the sky with all its brightness and charm. The wind became coarser, howling through narrow streets and reaching the most unprepared in short bursts. The cars left the skyscrapers parking lots and headed towards their respective homes, driven by people exhausted and eager for the comfort of their beds.

However, Charles's anguish at leaving the apartment complex towards the flower shop had an entire different origin. The air left his lungs easily as he remembered the person waiting for him on the other side of the door that separated the commercial environment from a private one. His lips were already crimson from so many bites there placed; his legs incessantly moved, accompanying a nonexistent musical rhythm.

Watching the greenery trees’ silhouette passing by in front of his eyes, Charles could only think of seeing Erik's face again; to gently feel the touch of his lips against his, feel the rough surface of his stubble, listen to the husky sound of his voice in his ears and maybe even echoing within his idealistic mind. However, the telepath also understood that these were not the main tasks intended, not before having a long conversation with the manager.

Inside the flower shop Raven was the first one to be spotted, reading a magazine about fashion and its latest trends. A cheeky grin flashed across her face as she heard the bell announcing her brother's presence. "He arrived just a few minutes ago. Seemed as eager and nervous as you." She pointed to the back room.

Charles nodded, swallowing hard and encouraging himself enough to take the first step towards the back door. As he walked along the counter Raven offered him a lousy wink and a broad grin.

Charles's slightly trembling hands found the doorknob, and its click seemed to reverberate throughout the establishment. But the instant his gaze met the man's on the couch, the Earth seemed to stop spinning.

Erik stood up instantly, almost losing the composure he'd been building up since the end of his work hours. "Hello," he said; his breath swaying as he approached Charles with long steps. The telepath also struggled to leave the hard support given by the door on his back and go forward to meet Erik.

"How are you?" The manager asked, brushing part of Charles's hair that insisted on falling on his forehead and finally resting his hand on the back of his neck.

"Fine." Charles thought of several things to tell Erik at that moment, for example, about his throat that now bothered him no more, his still obstructed nose, the ceaseless cough, and even Moira's visit. However, the instant Erik's hands touched his neck and the heat consequently spread through all his body, the words could no longer come together in lucid, speech-worthy phrases.

"Erik," the telepath caught his eye. "We need to talk." His voice was weak, almost a whisper lost amid the latent sonority of both heartbeats.

From Erik's throat a hum of agreement was heard before he took Charles's face into his hands and brought him closer, feeling the texture of velvety lips against his own again.

Charles gasped in surprise, but then his eyelids blocked the light and his hands gripped the ends of Erik's dark coat, pulling him closer. The sensations, either on the surface of each other’s minds or purely corporeal ones - always so inviting; urged Charles to tilt his head aside to deepen the kiss received with such fervor. For the first time their tongues met, both thirsting for a tiny touch, a chance to unravel not only their tastes, but also to save in memory each fragrance, each peculiarity of their respective palates.

Erik was giving in to the gesture just as he responded to facts of his daily life, passionately. Every movement was an additional chance to express himself in a way that suited him best, transmitting in that extensive touch of lips and pressing of fingers in contact with Charles’ small back everything that until then he had kept in secret. While Charles, no matter how much he tried to act in the opposite way, he couldn’t simply resist temptation to follow the waves of pure fascination and ardor coming from the man in front of him. The palms of his hands messed up Erik's scarce red strands of hair before miserably wandering across the region of his sturdy chest and collarbone.

At last their mouths fell apart, not on their own accord, but by the pure burning of their lungs in need of air to expand. However, their hands didn’t dare to move one millimeter, afraid to add a significant distance between them.

"Erik," Charles said again with a weak smile shaping his reddened lips. "Talk," he murmured, unable to utter more than a single word.

The manager agreed. "Right." He took a deep breath in an attempt to regain his shaken posture. The cushions were dispensed from the couch, going straight to the floor and giving Erik room to sit down. "Come here." His hands pointed to the place beside him.

Charles walked to the couch while moistening his tingling lips with the tip of his tongue. "Right." He sat down on one of his crossed legs and let the other fall from the couch graciously; his feet never touching the ground.

The telepath's blue eyes traced an agonizing path from Erik's knees to his face, locked in an instant hypnotic trance with the pair of gray eyes that watched him with the same amount of curiosity. A look different from the same old one, calculating and magnetic, instead full of an obsolete affection and desire, represented by his widened pupils.

Once trapped within Erik's imaginary claws, the chance of escaping was almost as whimsical as a chimera, whose different bodies held the attention of anyone who dared to approach; either for fear, or for diligence.

Erik, startled by Charles's movement in his direction, held him by the shoulders before he could bring his face even closer. "Charles?" The voice, as charming as the one who owned it, called the telepath’s name.

Slowly, Charles sank to his knees, circling Erik's thigh and allowing his eyes to fall against Erik’s thin lips; so close that the telepath was able to feel his breath tickling his face gently. "I want to kiss you," he murmured.

Erik's fingers tightened against the fabric of Charles's sweater, closing his eyes for a brief moment in concentration. "Was that what you wanted to discuss?" The manager asked, shuddering as he met an unexpected wave of feelings; lustful and affectionate.

"No." Charles leaned forward, brushing his mouth into Erik's seductively.

"Scheiß drauf," Erik hissed before framing his lips on the telepath’s again, hugging him by the hips with one arm and receiving the inviting warmth of his body in consequence.

In contrast to the last shared kiss, the current one developed itself in a slower and cherished rhythm, in which both managed, with a certain effort, to abandon the previous euphoria in favor of the softness held in the received gesture. Erik's hand, flat on Charles's arched back, explored all around it, eventually squeezing the sides of his body with adoration and care.

_Erik_

_Erik, I -_

Charles projected along with the sensations felt by him; there being no exact boundary between what belonged to him or Erik. Not inside his head.

His hands cupped Erik's face as if he wanted to keep him close forever. Their lips parted to be soon pressed against the manager's jaw, marking every tiny bit of skin lightly tanned.

_Charles. You are so -_

A shrill voice broke with the intimate moment being built. "Oh my God, I'm so sorry!" Raven screamed as she opened a small crack in the door, closing it immediately after seeing what was happening on the other side.

Charles felt a flush of embarrassment rushing over the warmth of his face. "I can’t believe this," he murmured, running a hand down his neck.

"What's the matter, Raven?" The telepath asked loudly, rising from the couch with wobbly legs and avoiding the slightest glance in Erik's direction.

"There's a customer asking about some flowers," she said, projecting only to Charles next.

_I thought you were just talking!_

Charles turned to Erik before leaving the room. "Wait here just a minute, please. It’ll be quick."

_We were in another type of conversation._ Charles replied with a mischievous, private smile to Raven, which had been soon morphed into a more cheerful and natural one as he answered the customer patiently waiting.

Raven rolled her eyes and shuddered. _Please don’t give me that creepy smile again, it's terrifying. Besides, I need to talk to Hank, he owes me ten dollars._

_I can’t believe you were making foolish bets on my love life._

Raven laughed, leaning against the counter as she watched Charles. _You have no idea._

The problem with the customer was easily resolved along with a beautiful arrangement of orchids as an apology for the delay.

Charles returned to the back room, closing the door and leaning over the woody surface, avoiding any more carelessness on his part. "So, about the conversation..." He said, staring at Erik’s distant figure.

"I wouldn’t mind having it again. You're very good with words." The manager sagaciously snapped back, grinning from ear to ear.

"Obviously," Charles agreed, letting out a brief laugh that relaxed his body further onto the door. "But what I really want to ask you is about _this_." He pointed at their bodies, indicating an invisible bond linking them together.

"If whether we’re in a relationship or not?" Erik looked confused at the question, frowning and turning his head slightly to one side. Charles's confirmation further deepened the manager's doubts.

"I thought we were already romantically involved," Erik said sincerely, raising one of his arms and silently asking for Charles to come closer. “Am I wrong?"

With both hands deep inside his trouser pockets, the telepath walked slowly towards Erik. "We are. I mean, if you want us to be, of course."

Erik approached the edge of the couch, receiving Charles's waist in both of his hands. "I thought I'd made that very clear a long time ago." His thin lips curved upwards in a sweet smile.

"Raven always says that I may be smart regarding many different subjects, but I'm a fool to notice when someone is actually interested in me." The telepath chuckled, arranging the misaligned reddish strands of Erik’s hair.

"Well, just in case I haven’t made myself clear enough. I'm very interested in you, including the dating part." Erik stared at the flicker of Charles's blue eyes, almost as clear as the water of a Caribbean ocean.

Charles's arms crossed behind Erik's neck, returning the smirk. "Glad to know we have something in common after all."

"I hope this is not the only thing we share," Erik commented, turning his face to kiss the inside of Charles's arm.

In the background, they could both hear more screams coming from Raven, saying goodbye to the couple and alerting them to the possibility of stains on the couch. An exchange of glances, followed by a hearty laughter, made the supposedly tense mood brighten. And, after another intense round of kisses, Charles and Erik departed to their own houses with a clear smile stuck on their faces.

 

[Coffees](https://soundcloud.com/jspiteri/a-new-beginning) and teas were shared, dozens of stories told, thoughts exchanged, chess matches played until dawn, visits to the movies, theater, museums, exhibitions. Several curses were also uttered in times of tension, as well as much more kisses given in need of a quick reconciliation. Despite the disagreements, Charles and Erik remained united during the period that had passed. And regardless of past events, quarrels and nights spent waiting for the other to apologize, the feeling one felt for the other only intensified, like the harmony of a sweet classical music that reached its apex.

"We're going out today." Charles muttered, terribly excited to someone who had just woken up.

Erik, unlike the telepath, got up early to run a few miles and now left the fuming bathroom after a long shower. "Where to?" He raised an eyebrow, wrapping a white towel around his waist.

Charles followed the torturous path of a single water droplet running down Erik's torso. "It's meant to be a surprise." He smiled, trapping his lower lip between his teeth. His telepathy didn’t hide the true thoughts that ran through his lecherous mind.

The nature of his smile was reflected on Erik’s thin lips, who approached Charles slowly. "If you keep sending me such sinful pictures of you and me, I assure you we won’t be leaving this house today," he whispered close to Charles’ ear.

_As tempting as it is to have you here with me all day, I don’t want it to happen like last week's dinner._ Charles projected as he leaned forward, stealing a short kiss from Erik.

Erik mentally shared with the telepath the scene mentioned in flashes; Charles coming over dressed in a tight navy blue tux as Erik slowly peeled off each and every single piece of clothing. Just as he showed the words said by Raven when she realized the reason that led to two vacant seats in the dinner she had prepared proudly with her own skills.

_I don’t know about you, but I had a very nice dinner._ Erik mentioned, breaking the contact between his lips to expose a wide grin, worthy of a shark. Yet still replete with the purest affection ever found.

"She refused to talk to me for a whole week, Erik." Charles chuckled, sneaking through the sheets to disengage himself from the manager's arms.

"So, you’re telling me it wasn’t worth it?" Erik asked, turning to look for a pair of slacks and a plain shirt.

Pale arms crossed in front of the manager's stomach. "Now, I never said that," Charles whispered against the skin of Erik’s shoulders before pressing his mouth onto the same spot.

 

The sun was calmly squeezing itself in between the clouds, greeting those who chose to leave their homes and others who preferred to remain in their comfort. The different forms of nature turned in the encounter of light and bathed happily in its splendor with their vibrant colorations, embellishing the sordid suburban landscape and bringing life to New York City.

About twenty miles from Charles's apartment, the New York's Botanical Garden stood out from other tourist attractions belonging to the city. Its collection counted on numerous gardens and vegetal collections of diverse nationalities and climates, scattered in a vast terrain; more than one million square meters occupied by artificial waterfalls, swamps and forests. In addition to it a magnanimous library could be seen with about seven million botanical specimens dated in their archives.

"Come on, I want to show you a place." Charles smiled, entwining the fingers of one hand with Erik's and guiding him to wherever he’d like to in his extensive and personal amusement park.

"How can you possibly walk around so easily without getting lost?" Erik questioned, astonished by Charles’ agility, considering the different routes they were offered to follow. It was as if he had a map engraved in the center of his mind.

Charles laughed at the question. "Since Raven and I were little, we used to travel to New York. And I, as a rebel, used to run away to this place. I spent hours looking at the research center, wondering what it would be like to work here one day." His smile to Erik was like the sight of paradise itself, brighter than the most expensive of crystals. "I've lost count of how many times I've come here for a visit, whether to go through piles of books in the library or just watch the trees and flowers around." He explained, diverting his gaze between nature and the man beside him.

Erik could not tell for sure how many steps he had taken so far, how many different colors he could make out of the thicket that enveloped them with its woody, once-sweetened scent. The birds sang over their heads towards the infinite blue sky, and nothing else could be heard but gravels being constantly dragged by both pairs of feet moving along the narrow path. His gaze was fixed on the figure at his side, which transmitted in thought and smiles all the joy and gratitude to be there, in a place that one day brought him so many good memories in times of difficulty.

Both climbed a thick ladder carved by nature itself into slippery stone covered with mosses until they reached the top of a hill, on which a small wooden plaque indicated the “daffodils’ garden.”

Erik's hand, drenched with sweat, fell from Charles’ grip as he stared at the scene in front of him; his features as pale as if he had just seen a ghost.

Charles turned, confused by the manager's actions. "Erik? Is everything okay?" He asked worriedly, approaching the man with short strides as his lungs expanded rapidly in search of air.

"How ...?" Erik's eyes blinked rapidly, making sure everything was real and not just a creation of his imagination. "I'm not dreaming, right?"

The telepath mocked Erik's questioning with a snort. "As much as my company is as magnificent as this place," he gestured with his hands, almost flinging himself over the yellow and white flowers that surrounded them. "I'd rather believe this is all actually happening."

"But I've never been to this place before. How could I ...?" The expression settled on his face varied as all the emotions flowed through him. Doubt, confusion, and horror confronted directly with a distinct enthusiasm as he directed his gaze to the man in front of him.

"Erik, my dear. I don’t understand what's making you so disoriented." Charles whispered, taking Erik's face in between the reddish palms of his hands.

With both eyebrows still deeply furrowed, Erik spoke again. "I could show you." The statement, despite affirmative, had a doubtful tone when it came out of Erik’s parted lips.

"Are you sure? I know you don’t like it when I read your thoughts and I honestly respect your decision." Charles stroked the slightly rough skin of Erik's jaw, feeling him nod in reply to the previous question.

Bringing one of his hands to the one resting on his face, Erik moved it to his temples. "I want you to see, Charles."

As he closed his eyes in concentration, Charles went through several scenes and emotions until he could at last reach for the one that had messed with Erik's senses in such a gaudy way. In front of him he was able to see the same flowery field that his feet now touched, the same characteristic scent of the flowers surrounding them, the same sight that embraced them warmly. But the most surprising was yet to come, the moment Charles watched his own image appear and dissipate through thin air soon after, over and over again; sometimes being hugged, others being kissed. The illustrations on Erik's head - of his dreams; were almost as sharp as the ones shown inside a movie theater.

Charles left the inviting warmth of Erik's mind and automatically grabbed one of his hands, pulling him through the garden and crossing a dense path of flowers and grass until he reached the feet of a cherry tree, whose trunk rested peacefully on the hill’s edge. Its rosy petals scattered around the place according to the movement of the wind, adding an extra coloration to the environment.

"I never understood why of this single cherry tree in midst of so many daffodils. And maybe it could be just a coincidence of mother nature." The telepath whispered, dropping Erik's hand and kneeling on the grass to pick up one of the yellowish flowers. "But I think maybe the pieces are finally coming together."

"The daffodils mark a new beginning, Erik." Charles offered the flower to Erik, his eyes almost closed, yet still capable of expressing a blue as vivid as the one that colored the yellow flower in his possession.

Erik's long and elegant fingers circled the flower next to Charles's hand, guiding it close to his mouth and there depositing a chaste and simple kiss. "From the moment I met you," he murmured, his voice vaguely trembling, barely containing the torrents of emotion which continued to fill him from inside out. "To a new beginning then." Towards the sky both hands were briefly raised in a cheering gesture. "With you." The manager finished, resting his forehead gently against Charles's. His eyes didn’t dare to blink, in fear that what he was currently seeing in front of him would disappear as in most of his foolish dreams.

"Don’t be silly, Erik. I'm not going to disappear just like that." Charles murmured, unconsciously alert of Erik’s thoughts brushing gently against his own mind. "I love you too much for that." His cheeks flushed even more after the confession. As much as he wanted to turn his face away, Erik wouldn’t allow him to do so.

"So, I guess now it's a good time to say that my feelings for you are the same," the manager said, not holding out the tips of his lips, which slowly unfolded into a dazzling smile.

_I love you, Charles._

The clock’s hands could stop spinning uncontrollably, the clouds no longer reshape before the clear blue sky, the cherry blossoms no longer float through the air around them. For Erik, that current moment was more than precious. His own mind was filled with the most positive sensations, the purest feelings; those he had not allowed himself to feel for a long time. Perhaps in that flowery field or inside his cozy apartment, next to that same telepath who presented him with much more than simple flowers, Erik had found a portion of peace that had never before crossed his path; the remnant piece of his personal and complex puzzle.


	6. I Want You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh well, this it it! We finally reached the end of this lovely story. Thank you for the ones who followed it and gave me your feedback, I'm sure it made my day a bit brighter just to see them. I definitely enjoyed writing it and I might have a few ideas for another Cherik in the near future. 
> 
> Just so you know, this chapter was loosely based on this lovely picture of James:  
> http://67.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lnhh0cwfah1ql7qv1o1_500.png 
> 
> I hope you liked it and maybe we'll see each other again!  
> Happy New Year to all of you

Six months were filled in with the most varied events, including the warmest laughs, the most beautiful flowers, the wettest kisses and even the most welcoming hugs. Thoughts whispered, words spoken amid the noise of nature around them, or the deafening encounter of both bodies in the heat of the moment. Tales shared, transcribed memories, countless "good morning" when opening their eyes in the morning and facing the same pair of iris that has long become each other’s favorite color; even without knowing how to exactly define it from a huge watercolor.

After the establishment of Erik and Charles’ relationship, the haunting questions about their respective friends came to an end, the incessant and desperate conversations in the dark, searching for advice or simply what to do next. The dreams that once troubled Erik's mind now were not only replayed in other scenarios, but also passed directly to Charles, who had moved into his apartment two months later. Boxes and more boxes were brought upstairs with the help of Raven, Hank and the couple involved in the process. Most of them overloaded with thousands of books, from most different editions, disputing space with a whole wardrobe of crumpled sweaters and woolen cardigans, which Charles proudly wore practically every single day.

Adapting to each other's personalities was possibly one of the most difficult tasks to be accomplished. Erik, for all his emotional intensity, kept himself organized and disciplined with his belongings and duties. On the other hand, Charles proved to be the complete opposite of the manager, leaving his books and tea mugs scattered all over the rooms of the simple and minimalist apartment. The day Erik found a heap of petals and earth gathered around the bathroom floor, the whole block of apartments shuddered with his fleeting fury.

However, the coexistence proved to benefit both parties over time, who were able to adapt to each single peculiarity without letting greater occurrences destroy the relationship built between them until recently. Good experiences stood out from the bad ones, making the environment take on the connotation of home, to which both hearts belonged and throbbed keenly, glad to have finally found a place to call it that.

 

It was already night; The moon shone in the sky, attracting the dreamiest of the philosophical looks and thoughts to itself and illuminating the streets with all its grandeur. The movement in the shimmering New York City grew as minutes passed by; bars and restaurants full of people enjoying a good drink, celebrating the end of another long and tiring week. Their laughter mingled with the cars’ horns, speeding off into the wide avenues; the conversations in parallel; the commotion around the nearby subway stations creating a typically urban environment.

Inside the apartment which now belonged to Erik and Charles, the smell sweet and intoxicating; characteristic of roses, spread around the rooms, filling each square cubicle of the residence. The illumination was weak, coming from some yellowish lamps and the fire that melted the candles enveloped by a woody and oriental protection. The exhaled heat constantly contrasted with the frigid wind blowing on the outside, creating a comfortable atmosphere in terms of temperature.

Erik found nothing more than a rare silence as he walked through the front door. His fingers loosened the knot of his thin black tie as his eyes cautiously ran through the candles and red petals, which together drew a provocative path on the wooden floor leading straight to the bedroom.

"Charles?" The hoarseness of his voice echoed through the thin walls like the wind’s howl as it crashed against the window cracks. "Are you home?"

_In the bedroom, Erik._

Leaving his briefcase on the black marble countertop, Erik approached the room with slow but long strides, in harmony with his uneasy countenance. Brushing around his neck, his hands untied the first whitish buttons of his shirt.

Leaning on the doorframe, his eyes widened in surprise at the lascivious vision that greeted them.

The pale, rosy skin tone mingled in a tangle of white sheets while the roses’ intense red was responsible for the liveliness of the scene, further emphasizing the brilliant blue eyes and plump lips. There wasn’t a single piece of cloth covering Charles's body, stretched out on the bed naturally with one arm behind his head and the other hugging his abdomen languidly. The only item separating the telepath from complete nudity was a set of roses - whole with their stalks and green leaves; exposed over his groin and consequently blocking the view of his sex.

Erik felt a shiver accompanied by a libidinal heat coming down the length of his spine and spreading to the ends of his body, warming the vicinity of his belly. His throat and mouth dried instantly dried upon the dazzling image, struggling to swallow what was left of saliva.

_Did you like my new look?_

Charles projected provocatively, raising his eyebrows and moistening his lower lip with the tip of his tongue.

Gradually Erik's mouth curved into a purely mischievous smile. "A little eccentric, don’t you think so?" His widened pupils unabashedly contemplated Charles's body as he approached.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, the manager took one of the flowers in hands, sliding his fingers over Charles's half-stiffened cock. However, his focus was not turned to the slight touch, much less to the sudden gasp coming from the telepath, and yes to the red rose in his possession, twirling it vacantly between elegant fingers.

"Look at you, Charles." An octave lower in Erik's voice was enough for Charles to press charges against the distance separating them, letting out a brief moan of discontentment. "Lying here, surrounded by nothing more than roses." The telepath felt Erik's fingertips pressing subtly a velvety petal against his torso, arching his back in search of more of that exotic sensation. "A vision worthy of Renaissance paintings."

_Erik._

Not trusting his own voice, Charles murmured directly in Erik's mind. His eyelids fluttered as the manager directed the thin petal to the pinkish nubs around his chest.

"Imagine if the painters of those ancient days met someone like you. Dozens of canvases would be painted in order to achieve the right tincture of your lips." Erik leaned forward, abandoning the petal’s texture in favor of brushing the pad of his thumb across Charles’ bottom lip. "Your eyes." Their gazes met at last; desire more than clear in the faint coloration that was lost in midst of the sheer darkness embracing their irises.

Charles bit Erik's index finger, closing his eyes as he closed his lips around it. In his mind, it was as if the telepath were immersed in his own fanciful thoughts, in which Erik’s finger was actually replaced by his engorged cock. He did not miss the stifled hiss left as thin lips parted slightly, neither the eyes focused on him, revealing nothing more than lust.

_You can paint me any time you want, my love. But now I really wish you would just fuck me._

"Always so impatient." Erik held the weight of his body in both hands between Charles's head, guiding the telepath's dark bluish gaze to himself as if a leather blinker limited his peripheral vision. As if nothing in the world other than Erik existed.

A faint smile took over Erik's features as his mouth traced a slow, tortuous path from Charles's neck to his reddened lips - past the lobe of his ear and jaw; taking them in a chaste, yet firm and passionate kiss.

In addition to the physical intricacy of their mouths and tongues, Charles's mind slowly expanded its own horizons in search of the inviting environment provided by Erik's head. The disconcert of the manager's thoughts; once so closely tied together like a resilient spider's web, now resulting in an uncoordinated whirlpool of sensations, spreading chaos throughout the available space and unconsciously transmitting some of them through the bond created between him and Charles. The lust, predominant in the middle of happiness, was exchanged by both involved with extreme naturality, already accustomed to the act due to the time in which they spent together.

Charles's hands were clutched on Erik's white shirt, undoing its buttons regardless of their final state. The thing he wanted most that moment was to have more of the manager's lean body pressed against his. The tips of his fingers trailed indelicately through Erik’s slightly tanned skin, scratching his chest with short nails and leaving only a crimson trail behind to prove his gesture of exaltation. A latent grunt was muffled by Charles's lips, yet projected entirely in the telepath's mind directly.

A thin line of saliva connected the red, swollen lips, but it broke off as Erik descended to Charles's neck, nibbling at the white skin in lascivious exposition. His arms moved quickly, getting rid of the unease caused by the shirt still wrapped around his torso and slowly re-embraced the pale body lying underneath his.

"It's awfully unfair that you're still wearing a pair of pants," Charles muttered with both eyelids closed, head burying in his pillow as he felt Erik's mouth circle one of his nipples.

"You know what's really unfair? The fact that you're still talking, Charles." The manager's teeth closed against the rosy nub, breaking with Charles's line of thought and making him gasp in response. The smug smirk on Erik's face gained prominence, giving him confidence to continue with the intended actions and down the path of Charles's body.

When he reached the level of the telepath's crotch, Erik raised his head to better observe the flowers placed there; some of them redirected themselves according to the wavering of pale hips or the stiffening of Charles's cock, remarkable in face of the intense red provided by the petals. Slowly, the manager took each flower gently, noticing the lack of thorns and consequently admiring the work done by the florist to prune them properly.

"So much effort to see your precious flowers being carelessly thrown to the floor in the end." One by one, Erik cautiously withdrew them, aware of the telepath's varied reactions, wriggling over thin white sheets.

In step with the latent beating of his heart and the swift inflating of his lungs, Charles's voice made itself present. "That's where the fun truly lies, isn’t it? To build the whole scene and then see you wreck it." The white of his teeth contrasted with his lips as they were pressed into it.

_Wreck me._

Instead of gleaming with contentment, the sparkle in what remained of blue around Charles's eyes could be classified as purely libertine; a careless invitation made for Erik, whom would never in his right mind refuse. Not when the person involved was nothing more, nothing less than Charles.

The words, so well directed and sincere - with only a steady drop of yearning; raised the hairs on the length of Erik's body and forced a prolonged sigh to leave his throat, almost in a painful groan. Long fingers gathered the rest of the flowers and threw them on the ground; eyes never leaving Charles’ apprehensive face.

_Let me do the honors then._

Erik projected as he took Charles's cock between his lips, gradually lowering them through the foreskin that covered it, until the tip of his nose sank into the black hair on the telepath's crotch. Under his large hands, Charles's body involuntarily shuddered with the contact of the manager's mouth and the sensations sent by his deceitful mind. The weight flat on his tongue, which surrounded the crown of the cock; the taste, for now musky and intoxicating as it mixed with pre-come already dripping from the tip. So incredibly true were those sensations that Charles moistened his own lips, as if he were salivating for the exact same reasons as Erik.

Charles's hands tangled in the manager's red strands, moving his hips carefully in synchrony with the rhythm imposed by Erik's lips and hand; not wanting to cause him any discomfort. Though his eyes were locked shut amid the pleasure offered, Charles saw a clear image reflected in the confines of his mind from Erik's point of view, sent among a wave of lust and love.

It took Erik a lot of time to become so passive in face of Charles's constant invasions, as well as the thoughts they shared daily. Once there was, however, formed between them more than a bond of affection and rather one of trust, the manager found himself descending on an infinite waterfall with no apparent return; giving himself as never done before to another person, completely at mercy of the telepath's will.

The musculature of Charles's thighs twitched, his fingers clinging to the sheets and Erik’s hair as the sense of their desire increased and with it his climax, which became ever more palpable. His eyes, as he allowed the entrance of a pinch of light, were lost in Erik’s eyebrows, angled in concentration and his captivating and dark irises, whose mere presence drew sighs and moans from the telepath who received such a pleasurable act.

_Erik, I can’t -_

Charles pulled the manager through his hair, pushing his mouth away from his fully hard, glossy member, covered with a thick layer of saliva.

"Kiss me," Charles whispered. His cheeks colored in the most natural shade of pink, dyed as the temperature around them increased.

Erik surrendered to the telepath's unconscious supplication, crawling up his body with greed and trapping reddened lips against his own in a passionate kiss, sharing not only his desire but also Charles’ taste still stuck in the corners of his mouth.

A groan of contentment could be heard, though muffled due to how busy their tongues were intertwined to each other. However, the contact proved to be short, since Erik separated them again and returned to the previous position. A wet path had been traced from the tip of Charles's cock to the back of his testicles.

_Erik, what are you -_

Charles's eyebrows mimicked the conformation of his arched back, surprised to feel Erik's hands lifting his hips and guiding both pale legs to his shoulders, adjusting them so that his face was leveled with Charles’ provocative and puckered entrance.

"Is this okay?" Erik murmured, pressing his mouth against the inside of Charles's thigh, feeling it wince at the subtlest of touches.

_Yes. Yes. Yes. Please._

An extended squeal left Charles's throat the moment he felt his buttocks being briefly massaged by Erik’s elegant fingers; Erik’s warm breath against the small space between two globes of flesh, the adventitious texture of thin lips brushing against his surroundings in a purely provocative way.

"Erik, do not tempt me." Charles's feet pressed against Erik’s back, thrusting his hips forward and seeking for the contact Erik had recently promised.

"Or what?" Erik asked, interrupting all actions in progress to raise his face and look at the telepath's slightly desperate expression.

"Or I'll finish without you." Pale fingers slid down his cock, exposing the reddened head beneath a characteristic protective foreskin. The corners of Charles's lips curved as they came out of his mouth from the most loud and false moans; All in favor of fanning Erik's emotions.

His hands were quickly stunned on where they rested. "Do not you dare," Erik whispered ferociously, pressing his fingers against Charles's firm buttocks and touching his entrance with the tip of his tongue.

Charles could feel everything, both his sensations and those coming from Erik, who instigated him in such a torturous way; circling the creased opening teasingly and feeling it twitch in response to the stimulation of his lips. Erik's vision became his own, as if Charles were in that exact same position, performing the same carnal acts of lust and affection. The incitement of such superb intensity resulted in the unconscious thrust of the telepath's hips towards the manager, murmuring sharply for more of that touch. A gesture that Erik's hands could barely contain.

As slow as a needle piercing through the soft skin of Charles’ arms, Erik’s tongue deepened into the narrow, muffled passage, letting itself be carried by the contraction of the surrounding musculature, which instead of pushing it away as usual, invited him to penetrate it even further. Charles's hands clung to every convenient and close structure capable of offering him minimum support and distracting his thoughts from the sweet sensations Erik provided at each stoke of his skilled tongue. The groans varied in tone, matching the pace set by the manager; calm, yet impetuous, but still ever present, like the exorbitant commotion within the telepath, consuming him as Erik and his gentle caresses.

"Erik..." The manager’s name left Charles’ lips as a personal mantra; the syllables lengthened according to the ravenous moans which accompanied this particular word, repeated over and over again. It was the only one that made any sense inside the telepath's head every time Erik's tongue slid back inside of him, pressing against the muscular walls; each scratch of the rough stubble on his thighs and ass.

_I need you to touch me, please. Touch me, fuck me, anything. I need more, Erik. More._

As he moved his mouth away, Erik traced his tongue across both lips, enraptured by the taste consigned in it, as if he had just attended to a generous banquet. His hands left Charles's hips slowly; tracing with his fingertips a path through the rest of his body and kissing his thighs, knees, calves and even his heels, only to rest them on the softness of one of the pillows arranged in the bed to better support him.

From the nightstand’s second drawer, Erik reached for a used vial of lube and a small square package, placing both items near Charles's head and moving out of bed.

Although all of his attention was directed at Charles most of the time, it was difficult to hide the unscrupulous heat that spread through his own body; the blood redirected to certain parts of it, resulting in a sharp nuisance inside his own pair of pants. Liberating was the feeling of finally being able to unbuckle his belt and get rid of the cloth that imprisoned him and his stiffened cock; just as lascivious was Charles’ gaze as he meticulously studied every part of Erik’s naked and slightly tanned body.

"Enjoying the view, Charles?" Erik woke him from his reverie, raising one of his eyebrows in disdain as he approached the bed again.

Charles murmured something inaudible, a hum echoing from the back of his throat. "Only a madman wouldn’t admire you like this. But at the moment I’m afraid that the image is reserved for my eyes only."

 _And my mind, obviously._ Charles added with a mischievous smile, waving his fingers close to his temples.

"Now come back here and finish what you started." Flat on the mattress, Charles's feet gave him enough support so that his legs could fall apart from each other, moving into the opposite direction and exposing even more of the pale and voluptuous body, decorated in crimson bruises and soft marks of Erik’s teeth.

The manager didn’t need further encouragement, coating his fingers with the viscous liquid and soon pushing two of them inside Charles’ reddened entrance, feeling the notorious difference on the clenching walls thanks to his tongue’s actions minutes ago.

_God, I don’t need your fingers, I’m ready already. I want your cock. To feel you inside._

The manager's fingers curled in response, narrowing Charles's thoughts to a strangled coarse groan as his prostate was vehemently touched by such familiar digits. The telepath's legs encircled Erik's thin waist, trying to shorten the distance between them. He felt something missing, some kind of eerie emptiness without the manager's member filling him completely or simply the lack of warmth only his mind could offer.

The temptation didn’t last forever. Even if Erik wanted to, it was impossible to deny the desire that flowed through his veins and ran across the rest of his body effortlessly. His hands hungered for a single touch as his turgid lips dried in hope of possessing Charles’ in one more cherished kiss.

Putting on the latex condom and adding over it an extra layer of lube, Erik, kneeling on the bed, placed Charles's legs firmly around his waist, resting one hand on his hips as the respective took care of guiding his engorged cock to the florist's slightly enlarged entrance.

Slowly their bodies became one, such as the uninterrupted palpitations of their hearts and both minds in connection through a strengthened bond previously established. The outer sounds dissipated amid breathless gasps of air, controlling the desire to simply take what had been, exactly six months ago, confirmed to be theirs. The lust concealed behind the gleam of their eyes was replaced by another feeling; one which happened to develop in the most natural way possible, surprising even those involved.

None of them ever imagined that a carnal act could become so intense and important, representing not only the culmination of their deepest desires but also making the connection between those two people even stronger and resilient as it faced the difficulties once found daily.

"Are you okay?" Erik whispered against Charles's chest, interrupting all of his movements. The tip of his fingers stroked the telepath's hip in short gestures, enough for the initial euphoria to subside.

Charles nodded, allowing his eyes to close and indulging in the subtle pleasure that slowly crawled over his body; tracing a long, sinuous trail from the tip of his toes to the last strand of his chestnut hair.

Erik's movements were languorous, mapping Charles's body with one hand and whispering everything he’d like to do with it, sending compliments directly into his ear and mind, making his voice echo in the telepath’s most secret places. Charles’ pale torso was pliable under Erik's hands and thrusts, carried by the sensations provided as a tide dragging impurities away from the shore.

The intrinsic link showed both sides of the same coin, just like a mirror that reflected their opposite image. The ambiguous feeling of being buried deep inside someone else and at the same time penetrated by a different person. At first it was confusing, but soon the knots were undone and the emotions brutally intensified, bringing a new meaning to that impudent act.

From Charles's lusty mouth came sharp, sincere groans; loose words left hanging around the thick air around them, which didn’t make any sense to those outside that intimate and personal environment. The sounds instigated Erik to accelerate the rhythm of his thrusts, being unconsciously dragged deeper and deeper into Charles’ mind, seeing and hearing each one of his impure thoughts.

_Erik, don’t fucking stop –_

Erik’s thrusts became diligent and extremely passionate, filling the whole apartment with a distinct melody coming from their bodies and beings, completely taken by the heat of the moment; by the erratic movements of their hips in search of the desired friction that would take them to a higher level of delight.

_So fucking perfect, so beautiful. Your sounds, Charles. Your eyes, your body. They’re all mine._

Erik guided one hand to Charles's cock, moving it in the same brisk, harsh rhythm of his hips. His thoughts mingled, forming a tangle of words that only made sense to the telepath who welcomed them with open arms and mind.

_Yes. Yes. All yours, Erik. Only yours. I love you, I love you so much. Please._

Charles's vision numbed as his own orgasm snatched him away, and the air was suddenly missing in his swollen lungs, as if death had taken his life for a few seconds, and paradise was the first thing he saw when he reached heaven’s high levels. The muscles of his whole body moved in short spasms, spurred on by Erik's long, enduring thrusts, which, drawn by the telepath’s heady sensations, fell into the arms of his own orgasm a few moments later.

Erik’s weight fell over Charles's body momentarily as he recovered from his fatigued state. His fingers caressed the telepath's pink cheek, whose eyes remained closed; at the same time a satisfied smile blossomed across his sturdy features.

"I love you too," Erik murmured, barely able to speak, moving away from Charles and removing the worn condom of his flaccid member only to throw it in a nearby trash can next. When he returned to the telepath in bed, he could hear him whimper in pain.

_Believe me, I know very well. Actually, I think I'll remember that for the rest of the week._

A weak laugh left both lips, and their gazes finally locked once again. Charles brought one hand up to Erik's face, feeling the fervor of his cheeks and pushing part of his sweaty hair away from his forehead.

_So, I promise to do the same next week, so you'll never forget._

"I'll eagerly wait for this moment to come," Charles replied with a broad smile, deepening his face into the warmth of Erik's chest and surrendering to the clear fatigue of his entranced body.

"Happy six months’ anniversary." Erik brought the sheets up to their torsos, hugging Charles's waist with one arm and placing a chaste kiss on his lips.

"You have six more months to think of a better surprise," Charles murmured, reveling in the warmth of Erik's proximity and the subtle inflating of his chest.

"I accept the challenge." Erik's own eyes closed after giving his answer, relaxing his body against the mattress.

_I will always accept them._

_I know. Just as I will always be here to see you fulfill each one of them._

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry for any mistakes, English is not my first language and I don't have a beta reader. I'm open for any kind of comments, so please let me read what you thought about it! Thank you for the attention.
> 
> There's also a playlist if you're feeling like it.  
> https://open.spotify.com/user/12179160716/playlist/0f9S1PM66E6ySM2kCObxvS


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